The Fine Line
by hate2luv
Summary: It's difficult working together with the person you hate. Even more so, when you're living together. Draco's Head Boy, Hermione's Head Girl... together they discover the fine line between hate and lust...and lust and love. Non HBP compliant.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore__  
__(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,__  
__Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)_

_Dear Ms. Granger__  
__We are pleased to inform you that you have been appointed Head Girl this __  
__year. Congratulations!__  
__The new book list is provided on the accompanying parchment. __  
__Term begins on 1 September. Instructions of your duties as Head Girl will be __  
__issued upon your arrival at Hogwarts._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall__  
__Deputy Headmistress_

Hermione read the letter over again and smiled to herself. This was it. She was finally Head Girl. It hadn't come as too much of a surprise, she had always known that she would be Head Girl. It was what she had been striving for, for the past six years. And in the end, she always reached her goals.

Hermione laid her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. The movement of the wheels on the track created soothing vibrations which lulled her to sleep. She wondered who the new Head Boy was. Maybe it would be Ron or Harry. She hadn't seen either of them all summer and she hadn't been able to locate them in the crowded platform either.

Just as she was about to give in to sleep, she heard the compartment door being pushed open and heard a loud voice say, "Hey Ron, here she is! Come on!"  
She opened her eyes to see a tall, well-built boy…no, man, looking down at her, his emerald green sparkling under his round spectacles.

"Hi Harry! How was your summer?" she asked him, smiling, as she got up to hug him.

"Not bad, at least I didn't have to stay with the Dursleys for more than a week. I spent most of the summer at the Burrow," he replied, lifting her off her feet as he hugged her. "Are you getting shorter every year?" he asked, jokingly.

Hermione hit him lightly on the shoulder and turned to greet Ron, who had grown a few more inches and had developed more manly features.

"Wow…you guys must be taking some Stretching Potion!" Hermione exclaimed, as she was lifted off her feet for the second time. As she was put down, she stepped back and examined them critically.

"Hmm, you guys have really grown, haven't you?" she concluded smiling. "And I don't mean only your height!"

For some reason, this set Ron blushing, something which Hermione tactfully chose to ignore.

Once they were all settled inside the compartment, she turned to her best friends and asked, "So, are either of you Head Boy?"

They both shook their heads.

"I wonder who it is…" she mused out loud.

"Maybe it's that guy from Ravenclaw…uh…Andrew Jennings," Harry suggested.

"Yeah, or Sean Averall from Hufflepuff," Ron piped in.

"Or Vincent Crabbe from Slytherin!"

The three of them broke out into laughter at the immensely stupid suggestion.

"Hey! That's not funny!" Ron broke in. "It could be him…or Gregory Goyle!"

This brought about a relapse of laughter. Finally, Hermione wiped away the stray tear at her eye and said, "Just as long as it's not-"

Before she could finish her sentence, they heard a familiar voice outside.

"Hey! You! Yeah, you, you filthy midget! Why aren't you in your robes yet?"

"Umm…I thought–"

"I don't care what you thought! I'm Head Boy, see, so YOU should be caring about what I think! And I think you should put you robes on before I make you!"

Hermione closed her eyes and prayed really hard it wasn't who she thought it was. Her prayers weren't answered. A second later, the compartment door flew open and a deep voice said, "Well, well, well, if it isn't the Golden Trio. Potty, Weasel and Mudblood Granger."

Hermione finished her sentence silently. "Malfoy."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Harry and Ron were already on their feet, wands drawn out.

"Get out of here, Malfoy, before I hex you into oblivion!" Ron spat out, his ears turning dangerously red.

Malfoy produced a sneer worthy of Snape and replied, "Shut up, blood-traitor. I doubt you can even spell half the words you said, so pronouncing hexes would be way too difficult for you!"

Crabbe and Goyle, who flanked Malfoy at either side, guffawed stupidly at this.  
Hermione rolled her eyes at the charade and before it could go any further, she stepped in between Harry and Malfoy, who were now glaring daggers into each other.

"Harry, forget it. Malfoy isn't worth our attention."

"You're one to talk about seeking attention, Mudblood," Malfoy spat out contemptuously.

Before she knew what happened, Hermione felt herself being pushed out of the way followed by a sharp pain shooting through her head as it made forceful contact with the wooden compartment wall.

"Oww…" she moaned before darkness engulfed her and she lost consciousness.

* * *

"Wh-where am I?"

"Hermione?" Ron's voice floated out from the darkness.

"Ron…where am I? What happened?"

"Umm…you're in the Hospital Wing. I accidentally…umm…pushed you over on the train and you hit your head against the compartment wall and passed out."

"Gee, thanks, friend! And Harry?"

"Dumbledore called for him. Probably to talk to him about how he finished off You-Know-Who last year. Some sort of counseling session."

"Hmm. What time is it?"

"Pretty late. You missed the Sorting and dinner and everything."

"WHAT??" Hermione sat up, startled, and immediately regretted it as a sharp pain shot through the side of her head, making her feel dizzy. "Ron!" She complained, head in her hands, "I was supposed to meet with McGonagall, to discuss my Head Girl duties!"

"I know. She told me to tell you that she'd meet with you tomorrow instead. Anyway, I'd like to stay here with you, but Madam Pomfrey told me I could stay only until you woke up, then I'd have to leave. I think you're going to be spending your night here. Damn, here she comes, g'night!"

Sure enough, a second later, Madam Pomfrey's brisk voice was pushing Hermione back into bed, muttering something about over-exertion and nasty bruises. No sooner than her head touched the pillow, she felt herself drift off to sleep again.

* * *

"Hey! Granger!"

Hermione didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Harry and Ron aren't here, so if you want to pick a fight, go look somewhere else and let me eat my breakfast in peace."

"Do you think I'm talking to you because I _want_ to?" he scoffed. "No, Mudblood, my time is worth more than that. McGonagall wants to see us. Now."

Hermione sighed and swung her bag onto her shoulder.

"Lead the way."

They walked up to McGonagall's office in hostile silence. It was taking Hermione considerable effort not to turn Malfoy into a toad, so instead she contented herself by visualising all the different ways she could torture him. She was so engrossed in her visions that she didn't even notice that they had reached McGonagall's office.

"Oomph! Malfoy, can't you give some warning before you just stop like that?" Hermione asked angrily, rubbing her forehead.

"Oh remind me again, the part where I was supposed to inform you of all my moves? Look, Granger, it's not my fault if you were lost in your own little pathetic world, so leave me out of it!"

Hermione felt a bubble of rage form inside of her, but suppressing it quickly, she knocked on the thick, oak door in front of her instead.

"Come in…aah, yes, Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy. I was expecting you. Have a seat."

McGonagall motioned to the two empty chairs in front of her desk.

"I take it that you're feeling better now, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione nodded and smiled.

"Very well. Now, about your duties. For most of the part, it shall be quite the same as Prefect duties. However, you two have to hold regular meetings with the prefects and update yourselves about problems in the school and ways to resolve them. You will also be in charge of the organization of the end-of-year Ball, and the ceremony for year 7 leavers. Remember, it is your job to uphold and enforce the rules and regulations of this school. Needless to say, if either of you disregarding these rules and regulations will immediately be replaced by someone more capable."

At this, Hermione sensed a slight movement in the other chair.

"Moving on to other things…I think it is common knowledge amongst all of us, of the… great... dislike between the two of you."

"That's putting it lightly," Malfoy muttered under his breath.

The comment obviously did not slip McGonagall's ears because her expression tightened immediately.

"Well, that is something that you're going to have to put aside for this whole year. I want you to be very civilized to each other. Do I make myself clear?"

Hermione and Malfoy nodded quickly, wary of the severe look on McGonagall's face.

"And, as Mr. Malfoy knows, the two of you will have to share living accommodations– "

"WHAT?" Hermione explained.

"Calm down, Ms. Granger," McGonagall said, looking faintly amused, "your bedrooms will be separate, but everything else will be shared."

Hermione looked ready to cry. She had thought that they would at least have different rooms! As if it wasn't bad enough that she actually had to be civilized to that ferret, but now she also had to share living space with him! This was really getting unbearable.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione asked in a despairing voice, "is it too late to withdraw myself from Head Girl-ship?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. Malfoy remained silent.

"Yes, Ms. Granger, it is quite impossible. Now, I have other matters to attend to and I'm sure that the two of you have classes to attend."

That signalled their dismissal.

"Well," Hermione mumbled, "there's no going back now…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

The meeting with Professor McGonagall left Hermione restless and unable to concentrate in Charms class. When Flitwick's back was turned, she narrated to Harry and Ron, in hushed tones, what Professor McGonagall had told them. Upon hearing that she had to share living accommodations with Malfoy, Ron accidentally set Harry's robes on fire.

"YOU HAVE TO WHAT??"

"Ron, calm down!" Hermione hissed, extinguishing the fire which had already ruined half of Harry's robes and at the same flashing a sweet smile at Flitwick, who had turned around to find the source of the commotion.

"What do you mean calm down? You have to live with that slimy, arrogant, miserable arse–"

"Ron! Harry, what do you think?"

"Sorry, Hermione, I think Ron's right. Malfoy is a slimy, arrogant, miserable–"

"Harry, I want you to tell me what you think about me _living_ with Malfoy, not what you think _about_ Malfoy!"

"Oh. Seriously, 'Mione, I can't believe you have to do that…it's just inhumane to have anyone go through that kind of torture. What the hell was McGonagall thinking of? Can't you stay in the Gryffindor tower?"

Hermione shook her head despondently.

"There's nothing I can do. I even went to the point of asking if I could resign from Head Girl-ship. Apparently I can't."

Harry put his arm around Hermione's shoulder in a consoling gesture.

"Don't worry. You can just ignore him most of the time. You can hang out with us instead and go there only to sleep. And if he tries anything on you, we'll hex him for you."

Hermione smiled and gave him a quick hug, which generated a sudden wave of whispers all around the class, and suddenly Hermione had girls looking at her with murderous expressions from all corners of the room.

"Hmm, Harry, it seems that you've become even more fancy-able since you finished off Voldemort – Oh get a grip, _Ronald_, at least now that he's _dead_ –last year. I can't even be near you anymore."

Harry smiled awkwardly whereas Ron turned an interesting shade of red.

* * *

The Head Common Room was a place to marvel at. The room itself was large and spacious, even though it was very well furnished. There was a fireplace right in the middle of the room which, especially, set up a very homely atmosphere. Close to the fireplace itself, large, black leather cushions, which served the purpose of sitting, arranged around a low glass table. The walls were adorned with silk banners of the four houses. There were two large windows on either side of the room which overlooked the Quidditch pitch and the Forbidden Forest.

In the far end of the room, there was a spiralling staircase which led up to the bedrooms, bathroom and study.

Hermione sighed contentedly. This was perfect. She loved it. She went up the spiralling staircase to explore the rest of the rooms. There was a long, brightly-lit hallway with many doors.

Tentatively, she opened the one closest to her. It led to a large room. It took her eyes a few seconds to get adjusted to what she was seeing. The bedspread was a gold lion printed on a red background, the pillows were red, the curtains were red and gold, the cushions on the red chaise longue in corner were golden…her room was literally decorated in red and gold – Gryffindor colours.

"Definitely my room," she said to herself, happily.

Opposite the four-poster bed at one end, there was a full length mirror and a bookshelf, which was already full of books, on another side.

"Is this it?" she mused.

Where was her wardrobe? And coming to think of it, where was her trunk?

On closer inspection, it turned out that the mirror was actually a door which led to a walk-in closet.

"Wow!"

What surprised her was less the fact that there was a walk-in wardrobe, but more that the walk-in wardrobe already contained all of her clothes – arranged exactly the way they were in her own wardrobe at home.

All of her shoes were placed in a neat and orderly fashion on the floor of the closet. The house-elves had obviously unpacked her trunk because all her school robes were hanging next to her other clothes. Impressed, Hermione was turning away, when her eye caught another smaller, inconspicuous door hidden away on one side of the closet. Upon opening it, she saw a small chamber containing–

"MY TRUNK! Finally! I've been looking for you everywhere!"

She pulled it out into the closet and opened it. Her spell-books! She sighed joyfully. At that moment, she wanted nothing more that to just sink down into one of the leather cushions in the Common Room and read her life away.

"And I'm going to do just that!" she exclaimed merrily, to no one in particular.

After changing into a casual halter top and mini shorts, she bounded down the spiral staircase, already able to feel the smooth leather against her skin. There was still an hour and half until dinner and she knew she could spend the whole time lost in a book.

But all her dreams crashed violently when she reached the bottom of the staircase. There, lounged out on the only available leather cushions were the four people she loathed the most –Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. Crabbe and Goyle were laughing at something Malfoy said and Pansy had draped herself all over Malfoy.

"Malfoy, what the HELL is going on here?" Hermione asked, seething with rage. All conversation stopped.

Draco, who had his back turned to her, turned around as slowly as he possible could.

"What does it look like, Granger?" he asked in a mock polite voice. "I'm _socialising_. Something you obviously don't know how to do."

Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy sniggered.

"You can socialize all you want in the _Slytherin_ Common Room. This is the HEAD Common Room, Malfoy, not the Slytherin hang-out spot! I want to read my book here!"

Hermione's rage was so intensified that even her hair seemed to crackle with tension.

"Well then, you can just read in Gryffindor Common Room, no? Or better, in your OWN room! You don't have to read here. And I don't think it's against the rules to bring friends in here once in a while, is it?"

Hermione knew he had, for once in his sleazy life, outwitted her. And from the gleam in his eyes, he knew it too.

"Well, is it, Granger?" he repeated, softly, challenging her to look at him.

When she finally did, she saw triumph, the usual disgust that he associated with her, but it was mixed with something else…she couldn't exactly describe it but it looked rather like–

Lust? Was he checking her out?

Realization dawned on her. She looked up at Crabbe and Goyle who mirrored his expression, but in a cruder manner. Pansy looked amazed but equally revolted. Suddenly Hermione felt exposed. It had definitely been a bad idea to wear clothes that revealed so much of her back and practically every inch of her legs. Why didn't she remember that she shared this place with Malfoy too? _Why?_ She had been so excited with her room that she had completely forgotten about that unpleasant fact.

She groaned inwardly. As if living with Malfoy wasn't bad enough, now she would have to co-ordinate her clothes around Malfoy too. Her expression changed to one of horror as she looked back at Draco, who smirked and turned away.

"No, Malfoy, I guess it isn't," she whispered as she turned around to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Hermione sprinted up to her room and closed the door behind her. That disgusting, pretentious, vile, slimy, low-lying piece of scum! Oh how she would love to watch his head swell up to an unimaginable size and explode! How she would love to turn him into a slug and sprinkle salt on him and watch him die slowly, painfully. How she would love it!

She flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling through the net canopy of the four-poster bed. She would make him pay for this humiliation, oh yes, she would.

* * *

"Barmy, I tell you. Dumbledore's definitely lost his marbles! I mean, what was he thinking, making that wretched slime, Malfoy, Head Boy?" Ron fumed.

Harry, though oblivious to Ron's ranting, was deep in thought about the same topic. What _was_ Dumbledore thinking? Voldemort was gone, for good this time, but that didn't mean that Malfoy was a different person. He was still the evil scum he had been before, and possibly even more dangerous, considering that Lucius Malfoy would be spending his last few days rotting in Azkaban. Malfoy was a man on a mission – to get revenge for his father's (if not Voldemort's) downfall. And he was in a perfect position to hurt or use Hermione, just to get to Harry.

Still, Harry trusted Dumbledore. And even though he detested the idea of Hermione living with Malfoy and wouldn't hesitate to hex his brains out at the slightest provocation, his faith in Dumbledore kept him quiet.

_What was Dumbledore playing at?_

* * *

"Hi, Hermione!" a voice called out brightly.

Hermione turned around and saw Ginny come up behind her, her long red hair swaying as she moved.

"Hi. How are you?" Hermione asked.

"Not bad…especially now that Harry can concentrate more on me than Voldemort!" Ginny winked and laughed. "But never mind me, how are_you_? How was your first week living with the local ferret?"

Hermione grimaced. She spent most of her time trying to stay as far away from Malfoy as possible, as did he. The experience of the first day had not been repeated, and Hermione made sure she didn't let it. But that wasn't a sign that she was surrendering. More to the contrary.

"Ginny, how would you like to come over to the Head Common Room this afternoon after classes, to _socialise_?"

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. "Uh-oh. Sounds like you're on a mission of some sort. More the merrier?" she enquired, catching on to Hermione's meaning immediately.

"But, of course!" Hermione replied. "The password is _existence_. Expect you after dinner. Have someone make a trip to the kitchens then, will you?"

Ginny nodded and sauntered off, leaving a satisfied Hermione in her wake.

* * *

The main topic of conversation at the Gryffindor table that night, was of the party the Head Girl was throwing. The sixth- and seventh-years spoke of it with excitement, whereas the lower years expressed their sorrow and indignation at not being allowed to attend. Hermione, Harry and Ron rushed through dinner to be able to continue with the necessary preparations.

"Ex –existence!" Hermione gasped out to the portrait of Barnabus the Brilliant, as she skidded to a halt at the entrance of the Head Common Room.

"Indeed!" Barnabus replied pompously. "My dear girl, this word that you utter with such little respect today is one of the most important things in this world…existence. Why do you think that so many witches and wizards, such as yourself, aspire to excel in magical arenas? Because they want to _exist_, my dear! They want to survive, they want to live, they want to _be_! The ulterior motive for everyone's actions is their want, their greed …"

Before he could continue, Hermione cut him short.

"Please, Mr. Barnabus, I really do appreciate what you're saying, and as much as I would like to continue this conversation with you, I am in a bit of a rush, so if you'd please…?"

A look of annoyance passed over the pompous wizard's face and he grudgingly swung forward to allow Hermione in.

She dashed across the common room, up the stairs and –

"Ouch!"

Hermione collided with something rather warm and solid.

"Watch it mudbl – Granger! Bushy hair impairing your vision?"

Hermione's hands curled up into fists as she fought to stay calm.

"I'm…sorry, Malfoy, but I'm in a hurry."

With that, she hurried into her room, not waiting long enough to see the look of surprise that passed, momentarily, over Malfoy's face.

* * *

_Phew, _Hermione thought as she heard the common room door close, indicating Malfoy's exit Ginny would be here any minute. No sooner than she had that thought, she heard a voice floating up from downstairs.

"WOW!! Hermione is so lucky…this place is gorgeous!"

"Yeah, it is! Wonder where Hermione is though…HERMIONE?"

Hermione went down to the common room and saw Ginny, Parvati and Lavender standing by the leather cushions.

"Great place you've got here!" Lavender gushed, plopping down onto the nearest leather cushion.

Hermione smiled.

"Thanks. Ginny, more are coming, right?"

As if to answer that question, the portrait hole opened again, and Harry, Ron, Dean and Seamus walked in, carrying food and a lot of Butterbeer.

"Great of you to throw a party, Herms!" Seamus called out as he set down the Butterbeers and joined Lavender on the leather cushion.

"Party? This isn't a –"

"Party, Seamus!" Ginny cut in slyly before Hermione could continue. "It's a celebration to congratulate Hermione on becoming Head Girl!"

She winked at Hermione.

"What?" Dean asked, confused.

"Yes, Dean." Ginny replied. "Parties aren't actually allowed at Hogwarts – but small celebrations to congratulate people on their achievements certainly are!"

"Oh!" A look of understanding crossed his face as the two girls in front of him laughed mischievously.

"Doesn't ferret-face have something to say about this?" Seamus' voice called out from where he was sitting with Lavender.

"No, he doesn't actually," Hermione replied. "He's out doing his rounds."

"Well, well, isn't he in for a surprise…"

* * *

An hour later, the 'celebration' was in full swing. The lights had been dimmed down. Someone had enchanted the banners of the four houses, and they were now playing fast-placed music, to which a crowd of people were dancing. The food and drinks kept reappearing as soon as they were about to finish and it was only after Harry informed Hermione that Dobby had agreed to keep them well-supplied with both that she understood why.

Upon seeing the look on Hermione's face he hastened to explain, "It was all his idea, I swear. He wouldn't take no for an answer!"

That settled Hermione a bit, for she knew how persuasive Dobby could be when he wanted. She located where Ron was sitting and plopped down next to him.

"Having fun?" she asked him.

"Yeah, I –I am! Wanna d –dance wimme?"

She was shocked to find how slurred Ron's speech was. "Ron, are you drunk?"

"No!" He said, vehemently.

"Stand up!" she commanded.

He tried to, but fell upon her, unsuccessful in his attempt to prove his sobriety. Hermione struggled to push him off her.

"Ron! Get – off…me! You're heavy!"

When that didn't elicit any response, she looked at him more closely, to realize that he had passed out.

"Great," she muttered under her breath. She summed up all her strength and pushed him off her, then stood up and brushed off her clothes. A moment later, the portrait swung open and through the almost non-existent light, she saw the outline of a figure at the door entrance. The light from the hallway outside reflected off white-blonde hair.

Smirking slightly, Hermione fought her way through the crowd until she stopped right in front of the figure.

The expression of utter shock mixed with fury that crossed his face momentarily was priceless. At first he didn't seem to notice the petite figure in front of him, but as his eyes adjusted to the sight, he saw her. Grabbing her by the wrist, he pulled her outside into the brightly-lit hallway.

"What exactly is going on in there, Mudblood?" Malfoy asked, his face remaining impassive, but his grey eyes burning with rage.

Hermione smiled sweetly.

"Nothing, Pureblood bastard, I'm just_socialising_. It's not against the rules to bring friends here once in a while, is it?"

She watched as Malfoy's jaw clenched and unclenched.

"Is it, Malfoy?" she challenged, daring him to answer back.

Instead, he let go of her wrist and walked back into the Common Room and up the stairs, leaving behind a giggling Hermione.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Hermione jolted up. Disoriented, she searched around her room for what could have woken her up. She knew it wasn't her alarm clock – today was Saturday and so she hadn't turned it on. Sleepily, she rubbed her eyes as she debated whether to go back to sleep or not.

Her 'celebration' had ended late at night, or rather, very early in the morning. The kids just hadn't wanted to leave. Not that she could blame them, considering how much fun she herself had been having – especially after seeing that look of pure hatred that she had seen in Malfoy's eyes. It had told her clearly that she had won. Whatever Malfoy could do, she could do better.

Smiling at that thought, she slid out of her bed and proceeded to get freshened up. Half-an-hour later, she rushed down to the Great Hall, expecting to find it empty. To her surprise, most sixth- and seventh-year Gryffindors were seated at their table, eating. As Hermione walked in, some kids cheered and congratulated her on throwing such a great party.

"When are you going to have another one?" Melinda, a sixth year, asked.

"Umm –well, it wasn't a party as much a celebration and I wasn't really planning on having another one…anytime soon. But if I do, I'll let you know!" Hermione answered loudly, hoping to ward off any further questions.

This seemed to satisfy them all, and Hermione was able to locate Harry, Ron and Ginny and eat her breakfast with no further talk of the previous night.

Ron seemed to be unusually quiet and avoided catching Hermione's eye. When asked what the matter was, Ginny was quick to reply.

"Oh, Hermione, he's just embarrassed about falling all over you last night!" she said, laughing.

"Oh, Ron, it's ok," Hermione said, earnestly.

Finally, Ron looked at her, abashed. "It is? I mean, I'm really sorry, I hope I didn't say anything – well, you know…" he trailed off, uncertainly.

Hermione laughed. "No, as a matter of fact, you didn't say anything like that. So let's just forget about it, ok?"

Ron looked immensely relieved at that, and immediately changed the topic. "So Hermione, what exactly was that 'celebration' for? And don't tell us it's about you becoming Head Girl, we know better!"

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but decided to tell them the truth instead. By the time she finished, Ginny, Harry and Ron were all open-mouthed.

"What?" Hermione asked, defensively. "I know it sounds stupid, but there's no need to act like that!"

Harry was the first to recover. "No, it's not like that Hermione. It's just that, you surprised us, that's all. Strictly speaking, you risked your position as Head Girl to do this…and for Malfoy! He must really get to you."

"Well, doesn't he get to you?" she questioned, testily.

"Of course he does, Hermione!" Ron declared. "But we're the ones who are supposed to be behaving rashly about it. You're the cool and collected one – well, except for that time you walked out on Trelawney…and when you slapped Malfoy!"

At this thought, Ron burst out laughing so hard, he almost fell off the bench.

"Glad you found that funny," Hermione said stiffly, "but neither did I risk my position, nor did I behave rashly! I got –"

"Granger!"

Hermione grimaced at the sound of her name being called by the last person she wanted to see this morning. She got up and turned to face her nemesis.

"Malfoy," she acknowledged, with fake pleasantness, "how can I help you?"

"Shut up, Granger." He seethed. "What the hell was going on in the Common Room last night? You can't just decide to throw a party when you feel like it!"

"It wasn't a party, Malfoy, it was a celebration!" Ginny piped up sweetly.

Malfoy turned his steely-grey eyes onto her.

"Are you that under-privileged, Weaselette, that you were never taught proper manners? Don't you know not to interrupt a conversation between two people?

Hermione heard rustling behind her and knew at once that Harry and Ron were both drawing their wands. Before they could go any further, she intervened.

"Now, now, Malfoy, surely you can _afford _to be more polite? Oh, wait! Some things can't be bought with money, can they? Then it's no wonder that you're such an insufferable, impolite, vengeful, cold, racist, pureblood git!"

That definitely stopped Ron and Harry from taking action, as all the Gryffindors present burst into laughter.

Hermione, however, had no problems in keeping a straight face. The look Malfoy was giving her made her feel slightly apprehensive.

"Don't cross the line, Mudblood," he whispered, loud enough only for her to hear. "You could lose your position after last night's little stunt, we both know it!"

Hermione smiled and reached into her bag for a piece of parchment. She handed it over to Malfoy.

Malfoy spared the parchment a glance and knew immediately that Hermione was far from losing her position as Head Girl. He thrust back the parchment at her and stomped off, giving her one last look of venom before he did.

She turned back to her friends smugly.

"What is that, Hermione? What does it say?" Ginny asked.

Hermione cleared her voice. "Well, it says here; _I, Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, give Hermione Granger special permission to use the Head Common Room to host her social gathering, in light of her newest appointment as Head Girl._

Signed, Albus Dumbledore…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

Malfoy trudged into the Head Common Room, thoroughly annoyed. It was a rainy Sunday morning and he had been out since the break of dawn, practicing Quidditch. He was drenched from head to toe, as was the rest of the Slytherin team, and this, being the first practice of the year, hadn't been too encouraging. Their poor performance today wasn't for the lack of talent –this year's team had enough of that – the blame lay more on Malfoy's bad mood. And the sole culprit for that was; Hermione Granger.  
_  
Stupid Mudblood,_ he thought. He didn't know why she seemed to be able to get on his nerves so easily nowadays, but the fact of the matter was that she did. And he hated it. Utterly. It didn't seem right to be wasting so much time on a Mudblood…even if he did spend every second of that time contemplating her death.

He shrugged out of his clothes and stepped into the shower cubicle, testing the temperature of the water as he did so. Satisfied, he leant against the walls of the cubicle as he let the hot water run down his back and help relax his tense muscles.  
He let his mind wander as he relished the feel of the water, until he realized exactly where his mind was wandering to – Granger.

"Damn!" he cursed, slamming the wall in front of him. What was going on? As much as he hated to admit it, he was getting a bit obsessive. Ever since he had been forced to share the same living space with her, she was the only thought that seemed to come to his mind repeatedly. How much he hated her, her filthy blood. How much he hated himself for being second-best to her, all his life at Hogwarts. How much he hated her stupid friends, The Boy Who Lived To Annoy and The Boy Who Couldn't Afford A Decent Robe.

After that little stunt the Granger bitch had pulled on Friday night and Saturday morning, it had become worse. Even Pansy had noticed. He had spent two hours with her, talking about nothing other than the buck-toothed Mudblood and how he wanted to hurt her, kill her –anything as long as it eased this painful embarrassment he felt. Thanks to her.

He stepped out of the shower and picked up the towel hanging nearby. Wrapping himself in it, he walked out into his room and was about to change into something comfortable when he heard his name being called out.  
From the Mudblood's room.

* * *

_She was running down a dark hallway. Someone was chasing after her The faster she tried to run, the slower she seemed to become. Suddenly a pair of strong hands caught hold of her shoulders and pushed her against the cold stone wall. She tried to struggle out of his hold, but it didn't work. His grip just became stronger. She tried to see who it was, but he seemed to be wearing a black hood that hid much of his face. She struggled some more, but upon realizing that her attempts were futile, she gave up and went limp. Finally, when he was sure that she wouldn't bolt, he let her go.  
Suddenly, she wasn't scared anymore. She felt safe with this stranger –like nothing could harm her. Which was silly because she didn't even know who he was. But he wouldn't hurt her, she knew that._

_  
On impulse, she lifted her hand and placed it against his cheek. His skin was smooth and soft under fingers. _

_  
"Who are you?" she whispered. _

_  
Ever so slowly, he lifted his hood, revealing his identity to her._

_  
"Malfoy?!" she exclaimed._

Hermione jolted up. Her forehead was drenched in sweat, as was the tank top she was wearing. She pushed back the covers and stepped down onto the cool wooden floor. She walked over to the window seat, which was at the far end of the room, hidden by the curtains. Settling herself in a comfortable position, she leant her forehead against the window pane and tried to decipher her strange dream. Safe? Malfoy? Not possible. That inbred ferret would kill her, given the slightest chance. Rid the world of one more Mudblood. So how could she have felt that wave of warmth and safety wash over her in his presence? What could it mean?

Shaking her head vigorously, Hermione cleared all thoughts of the dream. Dreams were meaningless. That's why she had dropped Divination in the first place. They were meaningless and they were stupid. Then why did this one feel so right, yet so wrong?

Before she could think any further, she heard the door to her room open.

"What is it, Granger? I don't have much time, so hurry up with whatever it is you want."

Confused, Hermione got off the window seat and stepped out from behind the curtains.

"Malfoy, what are you doing in my room?" she demanded, feeling the usual rush of rage she usually associated with him, along with a little bit of something else which she could not define.

"Well, gee, I was under the impression you could tell me that, seeing that you called me,_Hermione_!" he spat out, contemptuously.

Hermione who had been staring at his half-naked body, jumped at his usage of her first name.

"I –I what?" she stammered out.

Malfoy smirked. "Like what you see?"

"Of course not!" she answered back, mentally kicking herself for actually thinking that he looked gorgeous. He was still the same malicious little jerk under all that smooth skin and muscle that just seemed to carve his body into something magnificent that made her all – STOP!! What was she thinking? Drawing a deep breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart, she continued,

"And moreover, I did not call you!"

"Yes, you did. I'd recognize that annoying voice anywhere."

Hermione blushed, half with rage and half at the thought that she had called his name out loud.

"Oh, umm…actually, I wasn't really calling you, it was just a bad dream…" she broke off, hoping he would leave.

"So? What do I look like, your mother? I'm not here to console you after your nightmares, Granger, so there's really no point in calling out to me," he paused for a while, a look of comprehension dawning over his face, "…unless of course, you were dreaming about me…"

He walked over to her until he was standing close enough to fluster her.

"Were you dreaming about me, Granger?" he whispered.

He enjoyed the reaction his closeness and words elicited out of her. Her face became redder and she looked down, unable to look anywhere else, as Malfoy towered over her.

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head up so that his eyes could meet hers.

"I'll take that as a yes then, shall I?" he murmured, dragging his finger slowly along her jaw line.

Before she could answer, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving behind a very confused Hermione.

As Malfoy headed into the bathroom to wash away all traces of the Mudblood out of his fingers, two simultaneous thoughts ran through his head; _well, well, aren't we going to__have some fun with little Granger?_ and _Damn…she's hot._

**A/N: If you enjoyed it, please review! Pretty please? An author thrives on feedback, and this one's no different! And thanks to OrbThesela, wonderful beta and speed-reader extraordinaire for beta-ing this for me. ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

"What on earth?" Hermione whispered under her breath.

She walked back to her bed, fearing that her legs would soon give away underneath her. Her breathing was erratic as she gasped for air.  
What had Malfoy just done? And if she hated him, then why was she reacting like this? It felt as though eighteen years' worth of hormones had just kicked in, leaving her breathless and unsure of what to do. But then again, it wasn't everyday that guys with fabulous physiques walked into her room half-naked.

_But it isn't just that, is it?_ A small voice asked in the back of her mind. What had affected her was not that he had been wrapped in a mere towel or the way his touch made her skin tingle – it was the dream. Everything happened right after the dream.  
_Hermione! Stop! You're becoming more like Trelawney every second!_ Hermione berated herself. So she'd had a weird dream about Malfoy. Big deal. And then he had acted totally weird towards her. So what? Happens all the time…right?  
_  
Erm…no_ the little voice answered. Groaning in frustration, Hermione stomped off to the bathroom, hoping that a good shower would clear out her currently fogged-up brain.

* * *

"Existence!"

Barnabus the Brilliant looked down at the red-headed girl in front of him.

"Yes, my dear? How may I be of assistance?" he enquired, politely.

Ginny tapped her foot impatiently and replied, "Well, you could start by letting me in!"

"I could…if you gave me the password."

"But I just did give you the password!"

"I'm afraid it was changed this morning, by the Head Boy himself."

"Fine then! I'm just going to knock until someone comes out and lets me in!"

True to her word, Ginny started pounding on the portrait so hard, that Barnabus fled to a neighbouring portrait.

"Hello! Hermione, open up! It's Ginny! Herm –!"

Before Ginny could continue, the portrait swung back, causing Ginny to stumble into the Head Common Room.

"What's the meaning of this?" Malfoy's cold voice demanded.

Smoothing out her robes, Ginny retorted, "What's the meaning of what, ferret-face?"

"Tut-tut, that's no way to speak to the Head Boy. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"WHAT?" Ginny exclaimed. "You can't do that!"

"Questioning the Head Boy's authority? Ten more points from Gryffindor."

"Wha –? HERMIONE!" Ginny bellowed. "COME ON DOWN, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!"

"Deafening the Head Boy, are you? Twenty points from Gryffindor…"

"Stop it!" Ginny exclaimed. "You're being unfair!"

"And what are you going to do about it?" Malfoy smirked.

It was so quick, that for a while, neither of them had realized what had happened. Before Ginny could defend herself, Malfoy pushed her up against the wall, wand at hand.

"Don't you EVER, EVER slap me again, you stupid whore! You might hang around with Golden Boy, but that's not going to get you anywhere see, because I'm Head Boy, and what I say goes, got that?"

Even in her precarious position, Ginny put up her air of defiance.

"You're never going to get what Harry has, Malfoy. No amount of money can buy you what he has."

"And what might that be? Because if you're referring to sluts, such as yourself, then I must inform you, I have plenty of those."

"Of course you do…that's all you have! When was the last time you were with a real woman, Malfoy? A decent woman? You don't even have real friends! Pansy's a bloody leech only because of your name and money! I pity you, because you are worthless!"

That touched a nerve. Malfoy raised his wand.

"_Stupefy!_"

To Ginny's amazement, Malfoy froze and toppled over with a very loud thud. She turned to her rescuer.

"Hermione! Thank God! I thought I was dead for sure!" she exclaimed.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

"I came over to see you, but Malfoy had to be his usual snobby self, and we sort of got into an argument,"

"Ginny," Hermione explained calmly, "you aren't allowed in the Head Common Room, you know that!"

Ginny's mouth fell open.

"I cannot believe you just said that!"

"I didn't mean it like that! It's just that, I don't want any more trouble with Malfoy, I just want to live the rest of the year pretending he doesn't exist! And if you guys keep coming in here, he's going to keep picking fights with you and I am going to be forced to acknowledge his presence! And I really don't want that. Please, understand me."

Ginny sighed.

"I do understand Hermione. It must be terrible living with him!"

Ginny reached up to give Hermione a consoling hug.

"I'll talk to you downstairs then, ok?"

Hermione nodded gratefully. Once Ginny had left, she walked up to where Malfoy lay, still immobile.

"_Finite Incantatem_," Hermione muttered under her breath.

Malfoy didn't move. Hermione nudged him with her foot.

"Malfoy? Get up. Don't tell me you've fallen asleep down there!"

Still, Malfoy lay motionless.

"What on earth –?" Hermione muttered, a slight vein of panic coursing through her.

She dropped down on her knees next to him and shook him slightly.

"Malfoy, you supreme idiot, open your eyes!" she whispered frantically.

When that didn't produce any change, Hermione resorted to magic. "_Ennervate!_"

She chewed her bottom lip as Malfoy's eyes finally fluttered open. However, he didn't make any attempts at getting up, instead he stared straight at the ceiling, as though deep in thought. Hermione couldn't help but thinking how vulnerable he looked at that precise moment. It was almost –sweet. They both stayed silent for a moment.

"Erm – are you okay?" Hermione asked finally, her voice close to being inaudible.

He slowly turned his head to her.

"You could have killed me."

"What?" Hermione asked, confused.

"You could have killed me," Malfoy repeated, in that same quiet tone.

It unnerved Hermione. What was he talking about?

"Malfoy…why would I want to kill you?" she asked, trying not to show the wariness she felt. The fall had definitely addled his brains. Wait a minute – "Malfoy, did you hurt your head?" Hermione asked urgently.

Finally, Malfoy sat up and tentatively touched the back of his head. Hermione could see him wince in pain, and as he withdrew his fingers, she could also see that they were smeared with blood.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "We need to get you to the hospital wing!"

"No hospital wing, Granger." Malfoy murmured, a bit unsteady on his feet.

"But you're hurt, Malfoy, it could be a concussion!"

"Then congratulations, Mudblood, you just gave Draco Malfoy a concussion! Now why don't you go celebrate?"

Malfoy tried walking in the direction of the stairs, but found himself incapable to do so, as waves of dizziness washed over him. Before he could fall again though, a pair of small hands were gripping his shoulders, holding him steady.

"Get your filthy hands off me, Mudblood!" he said in a menacing undertone that would have scared away even the bravest of men. But Hermione, being Hermione, wasn't intimidated in the least. Instead she turned him around carefully and steered him towards the leather cushion that was closest to them and sat him down.

"Fine, Malfoy, no Hospital Wing. But I'm going to have to clean this up then," Hermione stated in a matter-of-fact voice, as she proceeded to getting a bowl of water and a clean cloth.

"Granger, I do not want you putting your slimy hands on my person, or I will personally hex you into tiny little pieces and feed you to the Giant Squid!"

"I'm sure you will," Hermione replied, brushing off his empty threats. She kneeled down behind him and dipped the cloth into the cold water.

"This might sting a bit, Malfoy," she warned him.

"Gee," he replied sarcastically, "I'm sure the pain I feel right now is nothing in comparison to the 'sting' I'm about to feel. Go ahead Mudblood, hurt me some more, today's your lucky day!"

Sighing, Hermione dabbed at the blood tentatively. She hated the way he kept calling her that name, the way he kept insinuating that she actually wanted to hurt him, when she didn't. True, she hated him, but that wasn't enough reason to harm him physically. He was, after all, human. Though a cruel one at that. But what she hated the most was the way he hated her. Intensely.

With all the blood wiped away, Hermione performed a spell to heal the wound.

"There you go, Malfoy, all done. You might have a headache, but there's nothing I can do about that, sorry."

She rose to her feet and headed towards the bathroom when suddenly Malfoy grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her back with such force that she landed, practically, on top of him.

"Where are you going?" he asked roughly, one hand capturing both her wrists behind her back and the other arm snaked around her waist to prevent her from escaping.

"T – to wash my hands," Hermione stammered, disconcerted by the intimacy of the situation as well as the weirdness of his question.

"Why?" he enquired, holding her a little more tightly than required.

"Why what?" she asked, wincing in pain.

"Why are you going to wash your hands?"

"There's blood on them, Malfoy, your blood –"

Before she could complete her sentence, his mouth was on hers, cutting her off.  
His hand moved from her waist to her hair and wove his hands through it to give him a better grip on her. His lips crashed onto hers with no gentleness and Hermione struggled away from him.

"No!" she screamed, breaking free at last. "Stop, Malfoy, just let go of me! What are you doing?"

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. He looked at her, long and deep, before purposefully dipping his head back down to capture her lips, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted. She didn't. She couldn't.

Slow and firm, his lips pressed into hers until she finally relented and her mouth opened for him. As his tongue massaged hers, he slowly let go of her wrists, feeling satisfied when she wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer.  
He hoisted her up so that she was straddling him and deepened the kiss. It was like he couldn't stop himself. She was pulling him into something and he had no idea which was the way out. He had no idea whether he even wanted a way out.

It was all her fault. Suddenly angry, he turned the kiss from slow and passionate to wild and frantic. His teeth bit down on her bottom lip and he could taste a sweet, metallic liquid. He heard her moan but he didn't know if it was out of pleasure or pain. He didn't care. He wanted to hurt her, to punish her for doing this to him. For everything she had ever done to hurt him, or humiliate him. He felt her hands in his hair – the same ones that had been covered in his blood – his pure blood, untainted by filth. She didn't deserve to touch it anyway, he thought, as his tongue delved deeper into her mouth. His blood was too precious for people like her. His hands ran down her back, pulling her closer to him, until their bodies were meshed together. And then he bit down on her lip again, craving for the taste of the blood he so hated, but needed so badly. She moaned again, deeper this time, and he felt her hands leave his hair and move down to the clasp of his robes. After slight fumbling, she pushed them off and he could feel her soft, warm hands through the light material of his shirt, exploring his chest. He liked the way it felt. He hated himself for it.

He was jolted back to reality when he felt her hands upon his bare skin. Repulsed, he pushed her off unceremoniously, so forcefully, that she landed on the ground.

"I thought I told you not to touch me!" he snarled.

Hermione felt several things at once at his words; anger, sorrow, shame, disgust, loathing, passion, but primarily indignation.

"You're the one who kissed me, remember?" she asked quietly, willing herself not to cry. For that would surely be an act of weakness on her part.

Malfoy gazed at her coolly.

"I was hit on the head, Mudblood. What's your excuse?"

When she remained silent, he pressed on.

"You know you wanted it. So I gave it to you. My way of saying thank you, for healing my head injury. Not that you weren't rewarded already – disgusting Mudblood like you finally getting to touch pure blood. Clean blood."

He looked at her. There were tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Stop crying already, and savour the moment. Because it'll never happen again."

But even as he got up to walk to his bedroom, he knew he was wrong. Before long he would be begging to kiss her again.

**A/N: To all my reviewers...thank you!! ******** To all my readers...review! Lol...and thanks to OrbThesela, my beta, who is just full of awesomeness and Slytherin! Oh, and I've already written up to chapter 13, they've been beta-d (let's all bow down to OrbThesela right now), and they're just waiting to be posted up. So...more reviews quicker updates! ******** Lol**

**Moonlight Gerl – The chapters do get longer later ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

How many times Hermione played the scene out in her mind, she didn't know. Her mind had been run raw and her head felt heavy. She felt sick.

She didn't understand what had happened, and a small part of her didn't want to understand. _Leave it, _her subconscious cautioned her. But she couldn't.

First Malfoy had walked into her room and tried to seduce her, then he had kissed her, and finally he had ended the whole mess by pushing her off him when she kissed back. And his parting words. They had been simmering in her head all day.

Fuck, she hated him. No, hate was a major understatement. She _loathed_ him. She knew he saw it in her eyes every time she looked his way. The fact that she saw the same loathing mirrored in his stormy grey eyes was usually a perverse form of comfort to her.

Except today. Today, the hatred had made her cringe. Because today, for one small moment in time, the loathing within her had dissipated. His pain had made her disregard it. The kiss had made her forget it.

But now it was back, and it was stronger than ever. No amount of revenge would ever compensate for the humiliation she had felt. The degradation. The casual dismissal. The lust the passion the want the longing…

"Oh Merlin, stop!" Hermione moaned into her pillow, as she buried her head into it.

The worst part. The worst part was that she didn't know whether to be mad at Malfoy for kissing her, or at herself, for kissing him back.

* * *

Something didn't feel right. He could feel her mouth on his, their tongues were frantic, and the kiss was urgent. Her skin bare against his, rubbing against him deliciously. Pansy had talent, that had to be admitted. But today, the taste of her didn't seem quite right. His mind kept wandering back to another taste, another touch. One that he had experienced for a very short time, but that short while had been enough to let him know that he wanted more. Needed more. Shit.

He drew away from Pansy's embrace and gently rolled her off him.

"Not tonight, Pans. I don't really feel up to it." Malfoy muttered, as he buttoned up his shirt.

"What?" Pansy asked him, bewildered. "That wasn't what your body was telling me right now."

She was making a direct reference to his very prominent hardness.

"Yeah, well, my mind isn't into it."

Pansy narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, I see. It's some other slag isn't it?"

"Whatever you want to believe, Parkinson. Just get out. And make sure Granger doesn't see you."

Granger. That name was enough to bring back memories. Memories he'd rather forget, but couldn't. She was becoming an unwanted distraction. And a very dangerous one at that, if it had reached a point where he was refusing a good, hard shag.

Sex was a passion of his, a sport. For him, it was purely physical and had no strings  
attached. It was a power play. He loved showing who was in control. And judging by the way he could make girls scream with pleasure, it was obvious who had the power. Obvious.

But today he was saying no. For the first time, he was refusing it completely. That was bad. He knew it, Pansy knew it, the whole fucking wide world would know it, had he cared enough to tell them.

"Since when were you worried about whether Granger saw me or not?" Pansy demanded, as she buttoned up her shirt.

"Since when she threatened to go and tell that mental fuck-up in the form of a certain wizard called Dumbledore, that's when!"

"Surely he wouldn't mind if only I came up here once in a while, would he?"

"Who says you're the only one who does come up here, Pans?"

Pansy's expression tightened.

"So, there are other slags?"

"Oh please, Parkinson, don't put on that holier-than-fucking-thou act with me. You sleep around, so do I. It's a common fact of life. Now get out!"

But Pansy didn't leave. She just stood there in front of his bed, shirt half buttoned-up, and tears freely flowing down her face. _When did she start crying? _Malfoy wondered. He certainly hadn't been aware of it.

"I haven't been with anyone else for weeks, Draco. It's been only you. I love you. And I think 

I'm right in saying that you love me too."

Malfoy sighed and turned away. Why couldn't he meet her eyes? He was supposed to be a malicious bastard; he was supposed to take pleasure in acting like one. But he couldn't, not with Pansy. He didn't love her, but they had been together for far too long to end things this way.

End things. Is that what he was about to do? End things with Pansy? Because if it was, how was it that the thought had never occurred to him before this instant?

It occurred to him that Pansy was still standing there, looking utterly pathetic. He had to say it.

"Don't confuse lust with love. Get. Out."

A sob escaped Pansy's lips. She grabbed her robe off the floor where she had hurriedly discarded them and ran out of the door.

* * *

"Maybe we should go and see if she's ok. What if Malfoy did something to her?"

Harry's jaw clenched at the thought.

"Yeah, you're right. After all, Ginny said she stupefied him. That probably wouldn't go down too well with him," he agreed. "Let's go."

"Uh, guys," Ginny interrupted. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?" Harry and Ron asked simultaneously.

"Neither of you know the password. And banging on the portrait would lead us to another confrontation with Malfoy, and she wants to avoid that. She told me herself that she didn't want us coming up there, because she didn't want any problems with him. All she wants is to ignore his existence."

"Yeah, so what do you suggest? We just sit here and pretend everything's ok That we haven't seen her all day because she's been busy and she missed dinner for _fun_?" Ron asked, acidly.

"Maybe she forgot," Ginny replied.

Harry looked at her sceptically.

"Somehow, 'Hermione' and 'forgetting' don't belong in the same sentence," he said.

Ginny sighed.

"You're right. Look, Harry, Ron, I'm as concerned about her as you are, but you keep  
forgetting, Hermione's a big girl now. She knows more spells than Malfoy could learn in a lifetime, and she can protect herself quite effectively, given half the chance."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked.

"It means, that maybe you two should stop being so overprotective of her. Let her fight this on her own for once, and if she needs help, she won't hesitate to ask. You know she won't. Just give her a chance. Give her some space."

"And you know all this _how_ –?"

"Because I'm her friend."

"And we're not?" Ron demanded angrily.

"I didn't say that. But sometimes you're just really –overprotective. And you do tend to overreact. If you two go up to her Common Room now, all you're going to do is to start a fight with Malfoy, and end up having Hermione mad at you. So just don't. You'll see her tomorrow morning. And if you don't, well, then you know something's very wrong."

* * *

Hermione brushed her hair back. Should she tie it or leave it down?  
_  
Oh, who cares? _she thought. Grabbing her robe and her school bag off the chaise longue, she rushed downstairs, not wanting to bump into Malfoy. It was still early, though, and he probably wouldn't be coming down for a little while longer.

She was wrong. In fact, he was climbing the stairs just as she was going down. The moment she saw him, she froze.  
_  
Calm down, Hermione, act like nothing's happened. _

_But nothing had happened,_ Hermione responded silently to her thought, bemused. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and gave Malfoy a once-over. He was already dressed; hair slicked back, not a wrinkle in his robes, looking as immaculate as ever. Which instantly made Hermione feel rather untidy, what with her hair let loose, bag hanging over one shoulder and robe in hand.

And he was looking at her. Oh Merlin, just that look made bile rise up her throat, as she 

remembered her humiliation of the previous day. For a moment she felt she was going to throw up, right there on the staircase, barely a step or two above him. But no. He had already seen her cry – to see her throw up was not a pleasure she was going to give him. Ever.

"Get out of my way, Malfoy."

He didn't move. Simply looked up at her. His grey eyes were darker than ever. Something wasn't right.

"I said, get the fuck out of my way, Malfoy!"

"Not until you say please, Mudblood."

"Oh for the love of –! Just move will you?"

Exasperated, Hermione adjusted her bag and pushed past him – or at least tried to, because as soon as her hands came in contact with him, she found herself pinned against the wall, her wrists held up on either side of her head.

"I thought I told you not to touch me," Malfoy whispered into her ear.

Her pulse quickened. She hated the effect he had been having on her the past two days –it was just wrong. So, so wrong. Wrongwrongwrongwrong–

Before she realized it, Malfoy was kissing her again. And all coherent thoughts flew out of her head. All she could think about was his heated skin, and his perfect mouth, and his brutal tongue that was devouring her. And she was relenting. Pulling him in. Kissing him back. Again. But this was so wrong. Her and Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Kissing her. Kissing him back. What would Harry and Ron say? Harry and Ron–

Oh no. As soon as they had left her, her senses flew back in again. She started struggling, pushing him away. But Malfoy wouldn't stop. All her noises of protests were swallowed by his mouth. She was becoming frantic, and sensing the change, he pinned her wrists to the wall again. So she used the last option available to her.

"FUCK! What the fuck's wrong with you?" Malfoy exclaimed, doubled over.

"What's wrong with you!" Hermione shot back.

"You kneed me!"

"You kissed me!"

"And you kissed back!"

"And then I started pushing away!"

Hermione was breathing in heavily. Just looking at her rapidly rising and falling chest made Malfoy want to kiss her senseless. She gave him one last look of loathing and sprinted down the remaining stairs.

At that moment, both of them realized one thing. There was a big problem.

**A/N: If you've reviewed...thank you:D If you haven't reviewed, and you like this story, then please do review...it makes me feel good. And when I feel good, I update ;)**

**Oh, and thank the reason why I can update error-free chapters...OrbThesela, the awesome author of the AWESOME story: The Story in The Soil... and you should read it if you haven't...and if you have, you should vote for it in Dramione 2008, because it's that's good!**

**Hides Don't kill me for pimping your fic, Paula! huggles**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

It had been over two weeks. She wouldn't talk to him, look at him, or even stand close to him. Avoiding him had become a science to her.

_And why the hell should you care? _DracoMalfoy questioned himself. _She's nothing to you. _And it was the truth. She was nothing to him. More than nothing…it was almost as though she didn't exist. He hated The Boy Who Didn't Own A Comb and his beggar friend, so naturally he would hate her. It was to be expected. But other than that, she was nothing to him. Outside Hogwarts (and quite often, inside too), Hermione Granger held no meaning for him, other than a faceless, nameless person.

But seemingly, that had changed. All because of two measly kisses. What two hundred kisses from twenty different girls couldn't do, Hermione Granger accomplished with only two kisses.

Draco sighed as he straightened his robes in the mirror ("Looking as gorgeous as always, love," it cooed at him). He knew that outside Slytherin, there were many perspectives from which he was viewed. Mean, slimy git. Gorgeous playboy. Intelligent and apt wizard. They were, but a few. But inside Slytherin, he was the Prince. He knew it. Everyone knew it. And he cherished all his knowledge. People claimed he was vain…well, if acknowledging yourself was vanity, then he was absolutely guilty as charged.

The most important thing about Draco Malfoy was that he always got what he wanted. Whether it was the latest model of broomstick, or a girl, he always got it. And now he wanted Hermione Granger. He wanted to break her into a million little pieces, for ruining his whole life. And by breaking her, he would inevitably break Potty. That's all he needed.

Draco smiled to himself. _Two birds with one stone, _he thought. He turned around to wake the girl who lay tangled amongst the covers on his bed. What was her name? Laura? Lisa? Never mind, it didn't matter, he wouldn't be seeing her again anyway.

She opened her eyes and blinked groggily at him.

"Up already?" she asked, wiping the sleep out of her eyes.

"Yes," he answered. "And you, my love, need to get the hell out now, before the Head Girl kicks you out."

Draco knew for a fact that Granger was already up. When he entered their connecting bathroom, her signature scent of vanilla and roses had already been present.

_Amazing_, he thought, of the fact that he knew her scent already. For someone he hated, he sure paid a lot of attention to her.

Little warning bells rang off in his head as the sane and Slytherin part of his brain informed him that he was heading somewhere he really didn't want to go.

_Oh, now you decide to show up, _he thought nastily. _Where were you when I kissed the Mudblood…twice, nonetheless?! _

Laura ( he decided to call the girl he had so recently slept with Laura, because she looked like a Laura) was getting dressed, although he could still hear her mumbling complaints.

"What was that, Laura?" he asked, pleasantly.

"I said, you're the Head Boy, surely the Head Girl doesn't lord over you! It's a bloody Saturday, and plus, after the great time we had last night, I expected to be able to sleep in a little! But it's not even eight yet!"

He simply looked at her. When she realized he was not about to give in, she rolled her eyes and practically stormed out of the room. Before she walked out of the door though, she paused and said,

"By the way, the name's Melissa, not Laura."

"Whatever, Laura" came the indifferent response.

Melissa let out a low growl of frustration and he heard her stomping down the stairs, angrily.

_ Bitch,_he thought.

* * *

Hermione was seated on one of the plush, leather cushions in the Head Common Room. She hadn't been able to sleep well last night, courtesy of Malfoy and his latest…lover. She wondered if he'd never heard of Silencing Charms before. She sighed quietly and clutched her mug of coffee a little more tightly, her cold hands absorbing her comforting warmth from the mug.

_ It's official, _she thought. _I feel sick, and it's all because of that stupid Malfoy and his newest whore…so much for a good night's sleep!_

That's when Hermione felt an uncharacteristic urge to break something, preferably against Malfoy's thick skull. She hated him. No, hate didn't even compare to what she felt. What she felt was so strong and so intense that in comparison, 'hate' was like 'love'.

And she hated him even more after those kisses…although part of her mind registered the fact that she had enjoyed those kisses. She shivered.

But that didn't mean she liked the git – to the contrary. How could it be that such an evil, mindless cut of life could kiss so well?

Of course, his…talents were well-known throughout the school and Hermione nastily wondered how many children out there in the world would have belonged to him, had the Contraceptive charm not been invented.

The girl's bathroom was an ideal place to catch up on gossip, and though Hermione did not take part in what she thought was absurd, wasteful jabbering, she did hear a lot of things; sometimes, more than she wanted to know.

Like how Malfoy had bedded the sweet May-Anne from Hufflepuff, only to break the girl's heart by kicking her out unceremoniously the next morning. Or how he had slept with both Patil twins, leading to an argument between them about which one of them he really liked. Or how big his…thing…was.

Hermione shuddered in disgust. It beat her, how exactly girls could fawn over what was the male equivalent of a slut. Except he didn't charge for his services. Sick. That's what it was. As was he. He was filthier than he thought she was. At least _she_wasn't a production house of syphilis or whatever sick disease all that shagging surely had given him.

Once again, Hermione suppressed an urge to break something. That guy was definitely driving her up the wall. It had been over two weeks and now she really did need to talk to him. Professor McGonagall had just informed her that the Head Boy and Girl had to start planning the Halloween Ball. Just the thought made Hermione feel nauseous.

The sound of footfalls on the stairs made her look up.

_ Oh, it's Malfoy's latest fix. I wonder if I'm supposed to invite her to stay for breakfast, _Hermione wondered sarcastically.

But the look on the girl's face was far from pleased, and upon seeing Hermione, it turned angrier.

"Good morning," Hermione said, with forced pleasantness.

The girl halted and scowled at Hermione.

"Yeah, whatever," came the irritated reply.

Hermione shrugged and turned back to her coffee, expecting to hear the portrait door bang swing open any second. But it didn't. So she looked around, to find the girl standing stock-still, one hand on the doorknob.

"I wonder," the girl began, "how you can stand to live with a smarmy git like Malfoy."

Hermione gave a small smile which the girl couldn't see.

"It's easy. You need to know three basic things; how to ignore him, how to avoid him and how to stay away from his bedroom."

The girl gave a small laugh and turned around. She walked up to Hermione and extended a hand.

"Hi, I'm Melissa Choper."

Hermione smiled warmly and shook hands with her, her previous irritation disappearing.

"Hi. I'm Hermione. You're in Ravenclaw, right?"

"Yeah."

"How on earth did you end up with Malfoy?"

The girl scowled again, but this time it was not directed at Hermione.

"Don't ask. A moment of weakness."

Hermione didn't reply to that. She had been through enough of 'moments' like that, she knew what it must have felt like.

"Anyway, I'm going down to see if I can get any breakfast."

Hermione nodded and smiled.

"Oh, and good luck," said Melissa.

"What for?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Getting through the year, holed up with that wanker." came the reply.

Hermione giggled. "Thanks. I'm going to be needing it."

* * *

"It's been over two weeks. She's still acting weird."

"Yes, Ron, we know," Ginny sighed, wearily. "But she isn't telling us what's on her  
mind. Obviously."

"And so, what? We're just supposed to sit here on our arses and not do anything about it?" Harry countered, angrily.

Ginny turned to look at Harry, coolly, hurt by his tone of voice.

"I never said that, _Potter_."

The last word was emphasized on. Harry had the good grace to look apologetic.

"I'm sorry Gin," he said, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. "It's just that I'm really worried about Hermione, you know. She just seems so…jumpy. And tired. And then there are those times when she just…goes out of it, and stares at nothing for so long. I just think Malfoy's finally getting to her. She's cracking under the pressure."

Ron quickly agreed to that.

"I'm not saying that she's fine!" Ginny exclaimed, impatiently. " I know there's something wrong with her, I'm hardly blind! All I'm asking you is _what are you going to do about it? _You should know, better than anyone else, that Hermione Granger is as stubborn as they get. If she's decided not to tell you something, she won't. She just won't."

"And why isn't she telling us, huh? We're supposed to be her best friends, damn it! Harry and I are her best friends. Why should she feel that she has something to hide from us?"

Ginny shook her head.

"I know how you feel. I feel bad too. Really worried. But if there's one thing I know, then it's not to push Hermione Granger. Our best bet is to give her time."

* * *

"Malfoy, we need to talk."

Draco looked up at the speaker curiously.

"Since when did I become Malfoy to you, Pansy? Anyway, I don't think there's anything left to discuss."

Draco was currently lounging on the sofa in the Slytherin Common Room, reading a book. Or at least, his eyes pretended to move over the words, as his mind went over other things. Other ..._female_ things, who had names starting with 'H' and ending with 'ermione'.

After Laura, or Melissa, or whatever-her-name-was, had left his room, he had waited for a while, just to ensure that her departure was complete – and that he wouldn't find her lurking around in the Common Room downstairs. What he had wanted was some peace and quiet, and judging by the fact that Granger had been up before him, he assumed that she had already left to cavort around with The Bespectacled One and his pet red-haired slug. So, needless to say, he had been very surprised to find her lying on the soft, carpeted floor, curled around a leather cushion, an empty mug close to her now-limp hand. He approached her, tentatively, careful not to make any noise that could awaken her from her slumber. She had an unguarded look on her face, one that he had never seen before. A strange feeling had bubbled up inside him...one which he was not quite ready to face just yet. So he had left her there, and sought refuge in the Slytherin Common Room instead. But the figure standing before him had ruined all hopes for a quiet and peaceful morning.

"Do you really care whether I call you Draco or Malfoy?" Pansy asked abruptly.

He looked at her for a long time.

"No."

She shrugged. "I thought so. Anyway, you might not have anything to say, but you can't assume the same for me."

"Okay, Pans, talk."

Pansy took in a deep, shuddering breath.

"I love you, Draco." She held up a hand, stopping whatever he was about to say. "I know that you don't feel the same way towards me, but you don't have to. I just –want us to be together. No strings attached…if that's what you really want."

Once again, there was a long pause. Then, slowly, Draco pushed himself into a sitting and gently pulled Pansy onto the sofa next to him.

"Pansy, we've known each other for a long, long time. You're about as much of a friend as one can get in Slytherin. And you're probably the only person who can see past my whole overly-glorified 'bad boy' persona. Because you've seen me without it. Before it. So that's why I'll tell you this. I don't want to hurt you. But you're not what I want. You haven't been, for a long time. But I guess, I was hooked up on expectations, on reputation. In a way, I suppose everyone expects us to end up together, get married, have a few children, and whatnot. So I acted on that. Now, though…"

Draco exhaled sharply.

"Now, I want something else. And it's not you. I'm sorry."

Pansy stared at him for a few seconds, dumbfounded. Never, ever, had she heard him speak like that. Like he actually…cared.

"What a load of bull, Draco. My, my, I never though you were capable of such sugary lies!"

Draco smirked and tilted his head.

"Oh, what gave it away? I thought my act of 'understanding, sentimental, honest boy' had gone very well!" Draco moaned, feigning distress.

Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Please…my dog can act 'understanding , sentimental and honest' better than you."

"You have a dog?"

"No. I'm not all that fond of dogs. They tend to dirty the place."

"I agree," said Draco, inclining his head.

"Really? Well, your actions seem to say otherwise."

"What do you mean, my dear, sweet, wench?"

Pansy gave him the finger.

"What I mean, is that it would seem that you have developed an affinity for a certain Mudblood bitch."

Draco's face remained as impassive as before. He was good at masking emotions.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't. That's why you stare at her during meals, like some pussy-whipped teenager. Your way of displaying your Great and Intense Dislike, no doubt. What's going on, Draco? Is she giving you some? Or are you…playing solo nowadays, imagining that she's giving you some?"

Draco sighed wearily, repeating the mantra : '_Must not hurt women, must not hurt women' _in his head.

"Pansy. Please. Do me a favour and –"

"Shut the hell up?" she provided, raising an eyebrow.

"Actually, I was about to say 'drop the subject', but your version could work too!"

Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, Draco. Anyway, I also wanted to tell you that I'm not the only one who notices…"

_'Must not hurt women, must not hurt women'_

"Pansy, for the _last_time…"

"Blaise notices it too."

"Notices what? _What?_Tell me, Pans, because I sure as hell don't think there's anything _to notice!_"

"Draco, I might not exactly match up to smarty-pants Granger's intellect," (Draco fought to keep an impassive face; Pansy actually _knew_ the word 'intellect'?), "but I'm not that dumb. You look at her too often for your own good. At first I thought that…maybe I was overreacting, but then…Blaise came up to me and we started talking."

"And that would concern me because?" Draco asked, raising a pale eyebrow.

"At first we talked about unimportant stuff, but then he suddenly asked me what was going on with you. I told him nothing was going on with you, but he just scoffed and said that…" Pansy took in a deep, shuddering breath, "that I was being stupid if I chose to ignore the way you look at Mudblood Granger these days."

Draco laid his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes as Pansy continued to speak. Maybe if he wished hard enough, it would all go away.

_Oh please, _a voice inside him scoffed. _Doing nothing has never made your problems go away before, what's so special about this time? _

What_was_so special about this time? Wasn't that the billion Galleon question? What was so special about Granger that she had invaded every single corner of his mind? What was so special about her that he no longer found pleasure in other women? What was it?

She wasn't beautiful. She wasn't ugly either. She was just…plain. Bushy, brown hair, common brown eyes, a nose.

But her lips. They were gorgeous. Slightly bee-stung , red and soft. Kissable. He had already grown addicted to them. Two kisses was all it took. Damn.

But that was all. There was nothing else about that girl that justified her constant presence in his mind.

He thought of what Lucius would say, were he not locked up in Azkaban.

_Obsessing over a Mudblood? Draco, you make it hard for me to believe that you are a Malfoy. Have you learnt nothing over the years, son? All my lessons, punishments…have they provided you with no knowledge whatsoever? You shame me, son, and the Malfoy name. _

Draco inwardly cringed. Shame the Malfoy name indeed. As if being locked up in Azkaban hadn't 'shamed the Malfoy name' already. At least his thoughts of Granger were private, however, the same could not be said for Lucius' public humiliation.

_You see, Father? In the end, I didn't shame the Malfoy name. You did._

Draco was broken out of his reverie by the sudden urgency in Pansy's tone.

"Draco, just be careful of Blaise, ok? We both know that the two of you…don't really get along, and he might use your little crush on that Mudblood to his advantage. Just…watch out."

* * *

"Albus, are you sure your decision of having Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy work together was a good one?"

Dumbledore smiled cheerfully.

"Of course, Severus! How could you think otherwise?"

"Easily," Snape muttered. "They hate each other intensely."

"Perhaps so, but it is time to change that. And only they can bring about that change."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.

"Severus, the war is over, yet it is not. This new generation brings forth a new wave of resentments and prejudices, that was indoctrinated into them from birth. I cannot really blame them, but this could prove to be a downfall. Though Voldemort (Snape winced at the name) is gone, the bigotry he influenced remains, especially amongst members of your house."

Snape bristled at the comment, but refrained from retorting, knowing full well that Dumbledore was right.

"We do not have that much time, Severus, to set things straight. Though we have tried, in vain, for the past years to promote inter-house unity, the presence of Voldemort overshadowed our attempts. Now that he is gone, we must resume our efforts. Our current seventh-years are the ones who I worry about. Many still maintain their narrow-minded beliefs… but it is time for them to let go. Before they enter the real world, they must have a change of mind, and heart, for I fear that if they do not, a new, and more powerful Dark Lord will rise. And this time, we may not be able to control it."

Severus absorbed this new possibility. What Dumbledore was saying made a lot of sense.

"But how does forcing Granger and Malfoy on each other help us? As sensible as they may be, they still detest one another, and as you say, prejudices do exist. Especially amongst those too. For all we know, it may just fuel the fire."

Dumbledore smiled again, but this time it was a sad smile.

"That is a chance which, I am afraid, we have to take."

* * *

_Shit!_Hermione thought. _It's already past lunch! _ _I can't believe I fell asleep! _

Having a rough night was one thing, but falling asleep on the Common Room floor was another!

_I wonder if Malfoy saw me, _she wondered, bemusedly. But then again, had he seen her, he would have surely done something mean and nasty to her, as usual, like, kicking her or something like that. The git.

She washed her mug and put it away on the shelf, turning her attention back to the letter she had just received from the Headmaster. He wanted the Heads to start organizing the Halloween Ball. Together with the Prefects, they were to decide upon a theme, the décor and the menu. Unfortunately this also meant that she would have to speak with that…ferret. Something she had been trying her damned hardest NOT to do since…_that thing _happened. She couldn't even think about it without shivering. And she didn't want to know _why_ the memory should make her shiver anyway.

Hermione sighed desolately. She watched as Crookshanks padded daintily down the stairs and walked up to her.

"Hey there, Crooks," Hermione cooed ad she rubbed his back.

The cat purred and jumped onto the cushion she was currently seated on.

Hermione had been quite surprised that Malfoy hadn't attempted to hurt her cat. Of course, had he done so, he wouldn't have lived long enough to tell the tale, that was something Hermione would take care of. But still.

"Oh well," she said to herself. "It was fun while it lasted, but if I have to talk to that wanker, I might as well do it now."

Not that she wanted to, no. But a girl of her mindset would never hide, never back down. After all, she was a_Gryffindor_! She was supposed to be brave, not a coward in hiding. And Malfoy was just a boy. Albeit a very good-looking, tall, muscular…(_Hermione,_what_ are you thinking?)…_snarky, vile, pretentious, disrespectful, bigoted one.

She got up and brushed off her robe, ready to talk to Malfoy. She stopped in mid-stride.

She didn't even know where he was, for Merlin's sake!

_Anyway,_she thought, _I might as well go and visit Harry and Ron. They're probably wondering why I've been acting so weird the past few days. I should go and smooth things out with them. _

Ready to do just that, she walked up to the portrait hole and was about to open it, but it swung open on its own. And standing right in front of her was Draco Malfoy.

Hermione knew that her face must have had a deer-caught-in-headlights expression plastered on it, but she couldn't help it. Sure, she had made her resolve to go and talk to him, but seeing him standing there in all his six-feet-something glory, her resolve crumbled away. Swallowing hard, Hermione started,

"Erm...Malfoy, we have to talk."

* * *

For the second time that day, Malfoy was faced with a girl telling him they needed to talk. Seeing that the last 'talk' he had had hadn't gone too well, he wasn't particularly interested in this one either.

"No," he said simply, proceeding to walk past Hermione.

But Hermione didn't budge.

"Yes," she said, taking a firm grip on his arm and pulling him into the Common Room.

"Granger, take your filthy hands _off_ my person!" Malfoy bellowed.

Because, really, it was giving him the strangest sensations, and he didn't need that. No way. Distracted by his the feeling of warmth that her hand on his arm was causing, he didn't really do much to reinforce his command, but simply allowed her to pull him Common Room and seat him down on one of the cushions.

Hermione watched as a frown formed on his usually impassive face. She fought herself not to run to the hills and join a nunnery because, truth be told, it just fit in with his bad boy attitude and made him look very, _very_ sexy indeed…

_WHAT? No! Bad brain! _Hermione furiously berated herself.

Keeping her composure as best as she could, she took in a deep breath and started.

"Malfoy, I just got a letter from Dumbledore saying that we have to start planning for the Halloween Ball. We have to start now because we will have to consult with him within the coming three weeks to finalize all the details, and _then_ start the actual preparations."

No response.

"Malfoy, did you hear me? This is a serious matter!"

"Yes, Granger. Halloween Ball, prepare, meet Dumbledore in three weeks, blah blah. Bollocks. Can I go now? I have places to be, people to do…you know how it goes, right?"

Hermione groaned in frustration.

"Malfoy, I am NOT going to do this alone, you hear?"

Draco looked back at her, expressionless, for a moment before replying.

"I heard you. We'll work on it tomorrow."

"But –but…tomorrow's Sunday…it's Hogsmeade weekend!"

"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? You might as well cancel your date with your two dunderhead boyfriends, because tomorrow's the only free time I've got. Or, we can tell Dumbledore that you're neglecting your duties as Head Girl just to go to Hogsmeade..." Draco sneered.

Hermione gritted her teeth and willed herself not to strangle him.

"Fine, Malfoy. Tomorrow."

With that, she got up and left, fully intent on visiting Harry and Ron to vent off some anger.

It was only later that she realised what Draco had referred Harry and Ron as.

_Boyfriends, indeed, _she thought, wryly. _Git._

**A/N: Yay! Another chapter posted...I feel so accomplished =D To everyone who reviewed...thanks you guys...it felt so nice! I know this collective thank you may seem a little impersonal...but I am so...so...so lazy...so everyone should take it as a personal thank you ******

**And thanks yous to OrbThesela...the wonderful beta...who just nagged at me (in a very, very nice way today) to finish writing Chapter 15...(huggles)**

**Read and review, please! Constructive criticism is very, very welcome!**

**Moonlight Gerl –This is as long as it gets! Hope you're not disappointed :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

"Okay, so what do we have to discuss?"

Hermione looked up to find Draco staring coldly back at her. Inwardly, she rolled her eyes. Honestly, his range of expressions, or lack thereof, was becoming quite boring.

"Glad to see you could make it," Hermione replied, snarkily, ignoring his question and readjusting herself on the cushion. He was late. Half an hour late. And Hermione was angry. Very angry.

"Right. Granger, as much as I _adore_ making small talk with you, could we just skip that bit today and move onto the real reason as to why we're wasting our time in each other's presence?"

"Oh, that's just rich!" Hermione exclaimed, heatedly, as Draco sprawled onto a cushion next to hers. "I've been waiting here for you for the past half hour, and now you just waltz in here and act like I'm the one wasting time? Where in Merlin's name do you get off, you sick, depraved bastard?"

"I, unlike you, have a life to live. I don't need to explain myself to you." Draco countered, calmly.

"A life to live? If I recall correctly, yesterday, _you_ were the one acting like a total ponce about me going to Hogsmeade with Ron and Harry and you were the one to schedule this bloody meeting, so the least you could have done was to turn up _on time_! Contrary to your belief, not everyone's lives revolve around you, least of all mine!"

"And you're under the illusion that _you're_ number one on _my_ priority list?" Draco asked, incredulously.

"No, because the top fifty positions on that list are occupied by you! But, I think, the least you could do is move 'shagging' down a notch on that bloody list and replace it with 'Head duties'!"

Draco smirked.

"Oh, Granger, you know me too well. Now, if you're quite done exercising your vocal cords, can we just discuss the damned Ball and get it over with?"

Hermione wondered if she could strangle him with the Slytherin banner and then throw him out of the window. Surely no one would miss him for, oh, a year or so. Grinding her teeth (thank God, she only had to put up with him for a few more months; any more teeth-grinding would effectively leave her with none) to release some frustration, she picked up her quill and parchment and started.

"We need to decide upon a theme first. Every year, Halloween just consists of a feast and that's it. But this year, the faculty's gone right around the bloody twist. As if sharing Head positions and living accommodations with you isn't bad enough, we also have to work together to plan whatever activity they intend to hold. And this whole Halloween Ball thing seems to be the start of a new tradition. Unfortunately, we can't expect the idea to be rejected by any of the Prefects –they'd probably come up with even more occasions to celebrate!"

_God forbid,_ Hermione said to herself, silently.

"Granger," Draco asked, rolling his eyes, "must you always give such long, drawn-out answers? You're not being marked, you know."

Seeing that she was about to snap something back at him (something rude, no doubt), he held up his hand to silence her, too tired to be drawn into another argument. Frankly, the girl could be downright tiring when she chose to be.

"Wait. Let's not waste any more of my valuable time... Just think of a theme, right now, okay? Did you have something in mind?"

Hermione bit down on her lip to keep her anger in check. He was right, after all. Though she wouldn't admit to that even if she were being _Crucio-_ed as a pre- _Avada_ treat. The sooner they did this, the better. For both of them. She didn't know how much longer she could keep her homicidal tendency towards the bigoted creep in check.

"Yes," she said, matter-of-factly, "I do have an idea. I was thinking of a Masquerade Ball or something. It would be fun, different, and most importantly," she threw him a dirty look as she said this, "there would be no _preconceptions_ between members of the Houses, because no one would know who's who."

For a long time, Draco remained silent. Then, just as she was about to thank Merlin for answering her prayers and finally making him a mute, he spoke up.

"That is the most shit-faced idea I've ever heard." He noted Hermione's outraged expression and continued, "I mean, a masquerade? Merlin, Granger, who in their right state of minds would want to participate in mundane activities like _that_?"

* * *

"Those in favour of the Masquerade Ball, please raise your hands."

Almost all the Prefects in the room raised their hands. Hermione smiled.

"Good, that's settled then. I expect each of you to come up with ideas and contact either the Head Boy," she glanced at Draco, who was currently lounging on one of the cushions and looking none too happy about this decision, "or myself, by the end of this week. And no details are to be leaked out to other students before the notices are put up. That will be all for today, unless there are any questions."

There were none. The Prefects, especially the female ones, were too excited about the Masquerade Ball and Hermione could already here discussions of possible outfits. Which reminded her…

"Hang on," she called out, waiting for the Prefects to quiet down. "The point of a Masquerade Ball is that _no one_, friends included, are allowed to know about your costumes, so as much as possible, keep your ideas to yourselves, okay? No point in ruining the surprise beforehand!"

There were murmurs of agreement as the Prefects filed out of the Head Common Room.

_Well, that went well_, Hermione thought to herself, giddy with happiness. Despite Draco's constant insistence for the past three days that the idea was complete bollocks her idea had been a success and –

"Hermione, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Hermione turned around to find herself face-to-face with a not-so-familiar face.

"Um, sure. You're Blaise Zabini, right?"

He smiled and nodded. She mentally noted that he had a great smile. It was one those make-a-girl-go-weak-in-the-knees kind of smile…too bad he was a Slytherin. That thought made her realise that she was no better than Malfoy when it came to preconceptions. Apparently, she had her fair amount of them too.

She led him to one of the cushions and sat down on another one. Draco, she noticed, had left.

"So, what is it you wanted to talk about?" Hermione asked.

"Actually," he broke off, looking slightly embarrassed, "it was about Arithmancy. I, uh, need some help with the essay on Transfiguring Formulae that Vector set us. Somehow, I'm not quite getting the hang of it, and considering you're the best in our class, I thought…"

"Oh," Hermione said, unable to process the thought that he was asking for help. Admittedly, she didn't know much of Blaise Zabini, but from what she had heard, he wasn't all that pro-Muggleborn either.

_Well, maybe he changed,_ nagged the Good Hermione, who believed that even Slytherins had an ounce of good somewhere within them, albeit, very, very deep within them.

"It's ok if you're too busy," he added, noting her hesitancy.

Hermione broke out of her reverie.

"No, no, of course I'll help. I've finished all my assignments, so, there's not much for me to do anyway."

"You've…finished all your assignments?" Blaise enquired, faintly.

Hermione nodded and smiled.

"Yes, I prefer getting them out of the way, you know. But, anyhow, when would you like me to help you?"

"How about…now?"

"Ok. Library?"

Blaise nodded. Hermione picked up her school bag and they left together.

* * *

It was almost curfew when Hermione and Blaise finally emerged from the library. Both were arguing and laughing in a friendly way that would have caused and outsider to expect several years of friendship behind their playful banter.

"Well, that was fun," Hermione stated, as they reached the place where they had to separate ways.

"Yes, it was," Blaise agreed, dark eyes sparkling with a confidence that had not been present two hours prior. "Maybe we should do it more often…?"

Hermione wasn't sure what to say. Or think. It wasn't everyday that an extremely attractive Slytherin just asked to spend time with her.

_No_, a voice in her head said snidely. _Usually extremely attractive Slytherins just snog you senseless. _

"Shit, I forgot about Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed, slapping a hand to her forehead.

"What?" Blaise asked, looking confused.

"I was supposed to meet with Malfoy after the Prefects Meeting and I completely forgot! I have to go! Goodnight!"

She rushed off, leaving a thoroughly annoyed Blaise in her wake.

_Oh Merlin, please don't let me get killed tonight_, Hermione prayed as she uttered the password to the Head Common Room.

Nevertheless, she tightened her grip on her wand as she ventured into the semi-darkened room. One had to stay prepared for anything. The War had taught them that.

"Malfoy?" she called out weakly, praying that he was asleep in his room. Or better yet, that he was out in some remote broom closet with his latest lover. That thought caused a slight pang in her chest, which she preferred not to define. Ever.

"Granger."

Hermione felt the funniest sensation ever. It seemed as though all the blood rushed to her head and simultaneously, her stomach plummeted. She felt rather giddy, but exhilarated all the same. She also felt rather sick. Somewhere in the back of her brain, a small voice informed her that it was unhealthy that she should have such a reaction because of Malfoy. It was dangerous.

She took a calming breath and slowly walked over to the object of her thoughts, who was once again sprawled across a cushion close to the fireplace. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realised that his eyes were closed. Not being able to see his eyes caused a slight flutter in her stomach. Usually, his eyes portrayed his feelings more than his face. Every time he looked at her, they were either laced with contempt, hatred, apathy or – on those two occasions he had kissed her – lust. Not being able to see them made her feel very vulnerable, not knowing whether she should expect a full-blown attack, or a verbal sparring or just an indifferent dismissal. Or a kiss. She didn't know where she stood and that was frightening.

"Where were you?"

Whatever Hermione had been expecting, it hadn't been this. Verbal abuse, yes. Semi-harmful spells, yes. But this question, asked in such soft tones, no. Too surprised to lie, she told the truth.

"I was at the library with, Blaise. I'm sorry."

His eyes snapped open.

"With Zabini? Wow, Granger, on a first-name basis already?" he asked, suddenly standing up, so that he towered over Hermione.

He could see that she was intimidated by his sudden actions, and truth be told, she should be. He was angry. No, he was way past angry, he was fucking furious. Ever since Sunday, he had been waiting for reason to be able to talk to her, alone, because he really did need to. Just to be able to spend some time with her. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because he hated being around her so much that he was actually starting to miss her when she wasn't around. Because, lately, hate was the only emotion that reminded him that he was still alive, and by default, she was the only one who could make him feel alive. He loathed Potter and Weasley. But he_ hated_ her. And lusted after her.

So, finally, he had decided to make up some cock-and-bull story about discussing the plans of the Ball after the Prefects Meeting, and she had agreed. He had endured the bloody meeting to a point where he had felt like just telling them all to shove off. Then he had gone to his room to change. And when he had come back, she was gone. So he waited. And waited. And waited. For two sodding hours.

"For two sodding hours, Granger!" he snarled, unable to contain his anger any longer.  
"I waited for two sodding hours only to find that you've been with bloody Zabini! And you call yourself responsible!"

That seemed to be a low blow for Hermione, because she immediately turned defensive.

"Look, I said I'm sorry, ok? I…it just slipped my mind. I was helping Blaise with Arithmancy and –"

"Helping _Zabini_ with Arithmancy? Granger, that guy's grades are third in the class, after yours and my own, why the fuck would he need help from you? Merlin, I knew you weren't as clever as they make you out to be, but even you should know Zabini just wants to get into your pristinely white knickers!"

For a moment, Hermione was shell-shocked. She couldn't believe Draco had the nerve to say something like that. To her!

"How dare you! Have you thought, for one second, that maybe, he just wants friendship, or that he actually needed my help?"

Draco let out a short, humourless laugh.

"Yeah, right. Granger, I'll have you know, that even though the Dark Lord has been defeated, ideals haven't changed. A Mudblood still remains a Mudblood. Especially to us Slytherins. But, you, being Potter's Mudblood, hold a certain allure for the Slytherin male population. You're like a game to them. Whoever gets to fuck you first, wins. And believe me, Zabini's very much in on it!"

Hermione's vision was blurry with tears. It seemed as though her hand lifted of her own accord and hit Malfoy across the cheek. Again. Harder than before.  
But this time, instead of running away, Malfoy grabbed her hand and twisted it behind her back, so that she was defenceless, and in quite a bit of pain.

"Don't you ever hit me again, bitch. Consider yourself lucky, you're the only one who's done it twice and isn't dead yet," he whispered softly into her ear, inhaling the scent of her hair, which smelled like the vanilla and roses scent he would find lingering in the bathroom after she had showered. His hold on her became tighter.  
She squirmed, uncomfortable to be in such a position. He could feel the apprehension, coming out of her in waves. But he had also heard her breath hitch slightly when he had whispered in her ear. He would let her go if she wanted. All she had to do was ask.

"Malfoy, let go of me."

Or, maybe not.

"No, I don't think I will," he responded, pulling her closer and circling one arm around her waist to keep a better hold. He nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck and was instantly assailed by the pleasant smell of her hair.  
She gasped.

"Malfoy, what are you doing? Let go of me this instant!" she demanded. However, the demand lost its intended effect because of the fact that it came out as a whisper. She almost jumped out of her skin as she felt something warm and moist on her pulse point.

"Ma- Malfoy," she breathed out, as he kissed his way up her neck and along her jaw line.

He kept ignoring her. At last, his lips found hers and he turned her around in his grasp to have better access to her mouth.

Hermione was sure that her heart would pop out any moment. It was beating too fast, too hard. Draco was kissing her again, slow, sensual, the kind one would expect from a lover, not an enemy. And she was kissing him back, like she always did. But this time something was different. It was almost like he was trying to seek out her soul, to reach that place that he was not allowed in. Because if he entered that place, she knew it would break. He would break it. She had to stop this, before it got out of hand. That was when she made the unpleasant discovery that he was currently holding her wrists behind her back. She started struggling against his hold, trying to free her wrists and pulled turned her head away so that the kiss was broken. Undeterred, Draco made his way down her neck, back to her pulse point, licking, sucking and nipping. Hermione was shocked to realise that she was helping him by arching her neck. The sensations his ministrations were causing were overwhelming. She could feel his rock hard arousal pressing against her stomach. She let out a soft moan and closed her eyes, which were moist from the gathering tears. Tears because he wouldn't stop this. Tears because she wanted this, needed this. But she had to try.

"Malfoy," she whispered again. "Please, don't do this."

He stopped. Instantly, she mourned the loss of contact.

"I can tell you want this as much as I do," he said huskily. "Why fight it?"

"Because I'm not a game you can play."

Suddenly, everything became much clearer in Hermione's head. The lust-induced fog was lifted and she realized what she had been indulging in. Immediately, anger replaced the feelings of passion and his previous words came back to her. Draco was still looking at her, slightly confused.

"I'm not – playing you."

She gave an un-ladylike snort.

"And you expect me to believe that after what you told me about Slytherin males?"

Draco wanted to jump off the Astronomy Tower as he remembered his previous statement. He hadn't meant it, they were only words to hurt her. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

"I –I didn't mean all that. I was angry –"

"Angry?" she seethed. "You were angry? Why? Because I missed one meeting? If you paid me one galleon each time you didn't show up as planned for patrol, I'd be rolling around in the Malfoy wealth right now! Or were you angry because I was with Blaise?"

Something in his eyes shifted at the question and he abruptly let go of her, almost pushing her away.

"Go."

"Malfoy –"

"JUST GO!"

Any other person would have run off at this point, but Hermione didn't retreat. Instead, she moved towards him.

"Malfoy, why are you acting like this?"  
_  
I wish I knew. _He let out a hiss of frustration.

"Just. Go."

* * *

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny were sitting by the lake, Hermione and Ginny dangling their feet in the water, while the boys stretched out on the grass. Hermione knew the NEWTS were only a few months away and she should probably be getting her colour-coded timetable ready, but the truth was, when the boys had suggested that they spend their Saturday together, she couldn't refuse. Because, after all, they were her boys and she hadn't been spending too much time with them, and plus, she really did need to get away from Malfoy, who inevitably turned up wherever she happened to be at the time, only to ignore her existence completely and act indifferent. It was rather…unsettling.

And, quite frankly, she was glad she had accepted their invitation because she was feeling better than she had in quite a long time. Teenage angst really wasn't her thing. And plus it was unhealthy.

"So, Hermione, do you know what you're wearing to the Ball yet?"

Hermione turned and smiled at Ginny.

"You know I can't tell you that…even if I did know what I'm wearing to the Ball."

Ginny looked shocked.

"You mean that the Ball is just a few weeks away and you don't have anything to wear yet?"

"Yup."

"You're insane, Hermione!"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm sure I'll find something soon enough."

"And, er, what about dates?" Ron asked, rather awkwardly. "We won't be needing those, will we?"

"No. In fact, the point is to meet new people at the Ball. Get to know each other."

"And exactly what kind of information are we allowed to divulge at the Ball?" Harry asked, curious.

"Well, Malfoy and I met with Dumbledore yesterday, and we came up with the idea that aside from your name and your House, any other information can be divulged. Also, Dumbledore himself is enchanting the Ball so that if anyone does break that rule, we will be notified and said person will be forced to leave the Ball. Unmasking will be at midnight, and after that, well, only the sixth and seventh-years will be allowed to remain back and continue partying."

"Ooh, sounds like fun!" Ginny exclaimed happily, clapping here hands together.

Hermione smiled again.

"Yeah, I suppose it does."

"Hey, Hermione," Harry piped up suddenly. "We were meaning to ask you…are you ok? I mean, Malfoy, he hasn't been giving you any trouble or anything, right?"

Ginny glared at Harry. This did not go unnoticed by Hermione. She sighed, feeling rather annoyed by the fact that they felt she was incapable of handling Malfoy.

"I'm fine. Malfoy and I are…trying to stay out of each other's way."

This was half-true – Hermione was trying to stay out of his way.

"Well, if he does anything funny, just let us know and we'll fix him up for you." Ron declared.

"I think," Hermione began icily, "that I am perfectly able to fix him up myself, if need be!"

"Of course you are!" Ginny said. "Don't listen to these fools, it's in their nature to be male chauvinistic pigs. Really."

She grinned. Harry feigned hurt.

"And I thought you fancied me," he grumbled under his breath.

Ginny laughed and kissed him on the cheek, despite Ron's loud protests that public display of affection was not allowed.

Hermione grinned happily. This was how things should be.

* * *

Draco was fed up. He was in the Slytherin Common Room, stretched out on a sofa and bored out of his brains. He had finished Quidditch practice some time ago and had decided to spend some time here. Some girl was trying to chat him up, but he wasn't paying much attention to her. Only one memory kept playing out in his mind –his last kiss with Hermione. It had been different from the other ones, and that had kept him wanting more. But, no, she had to be difficult. She had to ask stupid questions. She had to imply that he was jealous because she had been with Blaise.

Of course, he had been, but registering that fact to himself had been very difficult. Malfoys simply did not get jealous over Mudbloods.

_This one did. _

If Lucius weren't already dead, he would be now.

_Blaise_, Draco thought angrily. What was he playing at? He knew Blaise didn't care for Hermione, he was already seeing some witch in Hogsmeade. An extremely beautiful one too. Could it be that Pansy's words actually held some weight? Could Blaise be using Granger to get at him? Because Blaise was shrewd. He watched closely. And arrived at rather accurate conclusions. Draco knew that if there was one person who could figure out his feelings despite his cold countenance, it was Blaise. And that made him hate Blaise even more.

He had to prevent Granger from doing something stupid, before it came back to bite all of them on the arse. If he could get her to talk to him first, that is.

_Well, if you're going to do it, might as well start now, _he thought, getting up and brushing away the girl at his shoulder.

_Where would Granger usually be on a Saturday evening? Library. _

He set off at a brisk pace, hoping that Granger's bodyguards wouldn't be there with her. He needed to talk to her alone, and they would surely hinder that. He climbed four flights of stairs before finally reaching the corridor that led to the library, all the while thinking of what he would say to Hermione when he saw her. The corridor was fairly deserted, but Draco could make out two figures at the end of it, close to the entrance of the library, who were, by the looks of it, locked in an embrace. He walked on, ready to exert his authority as Head Boy and tell them to find a broom closet, but when he got close enough to see who they were, he felt as though three bludgers had knocked him in the stomach.

Hermione. Blaise. Kissing.

* * *

**A/N: Paula, you are love and Slytherin. Muah. My readers and reviewers, you are also love. Keep reading and reviewing, and I'll keep writing :)  
**

**iluvharryandron: I'm glad you're enjoying the story...and that you've reviewed every chapter...huggles**

**Keke Koorime: What are you disappointed about? Glad you liked the chapter!**

**gtbioteach: :)**** And, I do agree...so many Dramiones have Draco as a totally healed person...but I wanted to keep him in character as much as possible...let's hope it lasts all throughout the story!**

**kawaii-xx: Here it is! :)**

**xxxxcrazychickxxxx: Glad you liked it. I did indicate the change of scenes, but apparently FF decided it didn't like my method, so they all got wiped out. I was quite depressed when I saw it, and had to reformat the whole story with their page breaks. Oh well. **

**Moonlight Gerl: ;)**

**Hermisia Draco: Aww, thank you. Hope you keep enjoying and reading and reviewing this story ;)**

**OrbThesela: I WISH YOU COULD BETA MY AUTHOR NOTES TOO!! Lol :D **


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

_Too late. _

That was the only thing Draco could think of, as he instantly turned on his heel and swept up to his room, away from the kissing pair. He was too late. The game had begun, and the stupid bint had brought it all upon herself. Upon him. Now _he_ had to deal with the consequences of _her _actions.

Then there was that feeling in his stomach. That hollow feeling that had been eating him inside from the moment he recognized who the two lovebirds were. The reason why he had staggered against the wall, and was now trying desperately not to vomit. The one he was fighting to ignore. The one that would surely kill him.

* * *

Hermione didn't know _how_ it happened, or even, _why_ it happened. It just happened.

Harry and Ginny had left for some 'alone time' (much to Ron's dismay) and Ron had soon taken off with Dean and Seamus for a quick game of Quidditch by the lake. So, Hermione had made her way to the library and had been half-way through her Arithmancy notes when she had been joined by Blaise. At first, she had been unsure of how to act around him, especially after Draco's words, but Blaise's friendly disposition had made it hard for her to act chilly towards him and soon she found herself laughing and discussing subjects Harry and Ron wouldn't find worth their time, or brain cells, for that matter. Hermione was beginning to suspect that he might fancy her a little, for she would catch him looking at her sometimes with what could almost be described as and expression of reverence on his face and the oh-so-casual brushes of his hand against hers. Not to mention, the casual suggestions that they should spend some more time together.

Truth be told, Hermione had been quite flattered. She didn't remember the last time a boy had acted this way towards her. Other than Viktor Krum, of course. It was a refreshing feeling. Different to what she was used to feeling nowadays. With Malfoy.

They stayed until it was time for dinner, then Blaise had asked if he could walk down with her.

She had been pleasantly surprised by his question and had agreed. But when he had leaned down to brush his lips against hers, surprise changed to shock – so much so that she couldn't respond for at least a full minute. During which he had seized the opportunity to hold her close and kiss her more thoroughly. Not that she had minded, he was a very good kisser.

_But he's not Draco, _she thought as she tentatively wrapped her arms around his neck, testing the new position she found herself in.

It could have been a minute, or it could have been an hour, Hermione wasn't too sure, when they slowly broke away. Both were breathing heavily. Blaise's arms were still wrapped around her waist, and Hermione's hands now rested on his shoulders. He looked down at her, dark eyes full of – something. She couldn't quite place it…was it triumph? She couldn't be sure because the look vanished in a split second, to be replaced with tenderness and warmth. He smiled down at her and whispered,

"Maybe we can continue that some other time?"

Hermione's own smile froze in place. Continue? How far did he think she was planning on going? This was not good.

"Uh, Blaise…I'm not sure this is a good idea," she started, pushing him away gently, and breaking away from his hold on her.

"Why not?" he asked, looking slightly hurt.

"Well, we don't even know each other and I don't –usually go around kissing random guys just like that."

_Liar, liar. Forgot about Malfoy?_

"Well," Blaise said, capturing her hand and giving it a kiss, "we can fix that."

Hermione quirked her brow and fought down a blush at his affectionate gesture.

"Spend some time with me. Let's get to know each other. We don't even have to touch each other if you don't want to."

Hermione gave a weak smile.

"That would be nice."

_But what about Malfoy?_

* * *

_Strike one, _thought Blaise, as he watched Draco turn and walk away.

* * *

As soon as she approached the Gryffindor table, Hermione was assaulted by Ginny.

"Oh. Merlin. What were you doing with Zabini?" she demanded, pulling Hermione onto the bench next to her.

"Nothing. We were in the library, studying Arithmancy, that's all."

Ginny raised an eyebrow sceptically and exchanged a look with Harry, who was sitting opposite her.

"Hermione," Harry began gently, "you can tell us, you know."

"Tell you what?" Hermione asked, exasperated. "We were in the library, studying. That's all."

There was silence and then –

"That's why you came down holding hands?" Ron asked, forcing pleasantness into his voice.

Hermione blushed and looked at her still-empty plate.

"That was –that was a mistake," she finally replied, almost inaudibly. "That's something we still have to sort out."

"_We_? For how long have you two been a 'we'?" Ron bit out, angrily. Hermione made to answer, but he held up his hand.

"I don't know at which level of stupidity you've set us to be in your mind, but I assure you, we're not as dumb as you think. We hardly see you nowadays, and when we do, you're always acting strange, you're depressed and quite obviously unhappy but when we ask you what's going on, you push us aside. When we inquire about Malfoy we get our heads bitten off and now we see you come down to dinner with that – that _Slytherin _and you…" he broke off and breathed in deeply.

"And you're still lying to us. Where's Hermione? Where's _our_ Hermione?"

Hermione sat there, dumbstruck, as everything Ron said hit her. She watched helplessly as he left the table, not once looking back, unable to stop him because what he had said was true. She was lying to them. And she was lying to herself. Everything seemed like one whole, big, blatant lie, now that Ron had pointed it out. So she had to fix things. Because that's what Hermione did. She solved the problem. Then she fixed things.

She was about to get up, when someone stopped her.

"Hermione," Ginny said softly. Harry was looking at her, concernedly.

"Ginny," Hermione whispered back, voice shaking slightly. "He's right. It's all one big lie. I have to fix it."

Ginny wrapped an arm consolingly around Hermione's shoulder.

"Don't take his words to heart Hermione, he's just being selfish. The only reason he said that was because he's jealous, you know that."

"Jealous?" Hermione asked, incredulous. "Of what?"

"Oh Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed, despairingly. "Harry, enlighten our naïve friend!"

Harry looked uncomfortable at being assigned such a task.

"Ginny…" he began, weakly. At the furious look he received from her, he hastily turned to Hermione.

"'Mione…look, you know how Ron feels about you…don't you?"

Hermione shook her head; a numb feeling had overcome her senses.

"He, well, he…you know, he…"

Hermione couldn't take anymore. She knew. Now she knew. She stood up, ignoring Ginny and Harry's urges to stay, and left.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other.

"Don't." Ginny said, as Harry made to go after Hermione. "She's strong, and she's clever. She'll figure out what to do by herself."

* * *

"Ron."

He didn't turn around. The night breeze ruffled his hair and she could see his outline stiffen at her call. He knew she was there. He just didn't care.

Undeterred, Hermione made her way across the Quidditch stands over to where Ron was standing. Linking his unresponsive arm with hers, Hermione looked up at him, beseechingly.

"Walk with me."

The desperation she felt must have seeped into her voice, for after a tense moment, he gave a curt nod. Arms still linked, they walked down the stands, onto the Quidditch pitch itself. It was a cold night; the chilly breeze sent goose bumps up Hermione's arms, but Hermione knew she had to do this. Fix things.

They had walked quite some distance from the castle, when Hermione began.

"Ron, I love you."

She heard his breath catch. He tried to appear indifferent, but failed. At last, he whispered,

"Don't say that. You don't mean it."

"I do mean it. I love you, just not the way you want me to."

This time, Ron stopped walking and unlinked his arm from hers. Facing her, he asked,

"And what exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Ginny and Harry told me, Ron. I know."

He swore under his breath. She waited for him to calm down before linking her arm in his again and resume walking.

"Sometimes, things aren't always the way we want them to be," she said, softly, looking up at the clear, night sky. "Sometimes, we try and live by people's expectations. And I know, so many people expected us to be together at some point. And maybe that's what your feelings for me a built upon. Expectations."

Ron sighed.

"Hermione, don't talk about my feelings like you actually _know_ them. Because you don't. I've fancied you for so long, I almost can't remember when I started to. That's how deep it goes. And as far as expectations, well, _I_ expected us to be together. Someday. I couldn't say anything because I didn't know how. But I thought you'd have realised."

"Ron!" Hermione admonished, "How can I know how you feel if you never _talk_ about it? I didn't know, and you didn't tell me. Surely you didn't expect me to wait around forever until you finally worked up the courage to confess?"

"No, I didn't. You're too independent for that. But what if I had told you? Would we be together?"

He asked this sadly, already knowing the answer and dreading it.

She looked up at him, eyes full of regret.

"Ron, I love you. But not like that."

Ron gave a short, humourless laugh.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too."

They walked around the pitch in silence, arm in arm, until they were back where they started. It was almost curfew time, and Hermione's patrol was about to start soon. She wished him goodnight and was about to head back to the Head Common Room, when Ron's voice stopped her.

"I may have lost the best thing that could have happened to me, but Hermione, you're still my best friend."

Hermione whirled around so fast, she almost lost balance.

"As, Ron Weasely, you are mine," she said, before engulfing him in a suffocating hug.

* * *

The posters had been put up last week, but the school was still abuzz. Everyone was excited about the upcoming Ball, and was trying to discuss it as much as they possibly could, without accidentally (or on purpose) revealing what they would be wearing. Hermione was proud at the immense amount of effort the Prefects had put into the affair, and could hardly wait herself, to see the final outcome next Friday.

Letting out a happy sigh, she turned climbed up the staircase leading to the Head Common Room. Everything had being going so well these past two weeks, it was almost scary. All her homework had been completed and handed in on time (awarded, of course, with top marks), she had made her colour-coded timetables, the preparations for the Ball had been made, Ron was back to normal, she and Blaise were spending some more time together as friends only (which meant minus the kisses and holding hands), Gryffindor had won their first match against Ravenclaw, she had finished patrol for the night (minus Malfoy, as per usual) and –

"Ouch!"

"Watch where you're going, Mudblood!"

Hermione didn't need to look up to see the person she had bumped into. That annoying voice could only belong to one person.

"Parkinson. What are you doing up here? It is the Head Common Room after all, you shouldn't be here, unless there's a Prefects' meeting, which I'm more than sure, there isn't, considering that not only was one not scheduled, but it's also _way_ past curfew."

"I came to see my _boyfriend_, Granger. You know, the Head Boy."

Hermione winced at the emphasis on the word 'boyfriend'. Luckily, this missed Pansy's attention, as she pushed past Hermione and walked off.

'_I'm not playing you'._

_I guess you were, Malfoy, _Hermione thought, feeling something akin to hurt.

Muttering the password, she entered the Common Room and immediately made her way to the cushion closest to the fireplace. The winds were getting chilly, and living in a big, draughty old castle did nothing to warm a person up.

Placing her bag aside, Hermione kicked off her shoes and stretched out, watching the fire crackle away merrily.

Malfoy. He had been acting very strange these past two weeks. He ignored her completely and was ruder than usual when he did talk to her. She had no idea what she had done to receive this kind of treatment, but she would eat her hat before asking him.

"Maybe he's just moody," she muttered to herself, in the throes of sleep.

"Maybe who's just moody, Granger?"

Startled, Hermione jumped up, hand reaching for her wand, before she realised who had spoken.

"Oh, Malfoy, it's you. What? No insults to hurl at me, then?" she asked weakly, putting a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating unnaturally, due to the shock he had given her, of course.

He gave her a look and sat down on a cushion close to hers.

"It's the middle of the night, Granger, who else, other than me and you, would be in the Head Common Room right now?"

"Gee, I don't know, Malfoy. Pansy, maybe?"

_Shoot! _Hermione mentally berated herself at her slip. Even she couldn't deny the bitterness and jealousy that had made such an obvious appearance in her question.

Oh Merlin, what would he think of her now? Maybe she could pretend to be asleep…

"Jealous, then, are we Granger?"

"You wish!" _Blatant lies! _

"Why would I wish that? I don't need to play games to get girls, Granger, you know that."

She snorted in a rather unladylike fashion. "No, I don't. And really, I don't want to know."

"Sure you don't."

They stayed there like that for a while, gazing into the fire. The silence was overwhelming, and the heat was making Hermione feel very drowsy. Maybe she should say something –

"What's going on with you and Blaise?"

_Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! _He had not meant to ask that question out loud. Stupid mouth! Now she would think he actually gave a fuck about her and that git.

_Which you do… _informed that annoying little voice. He ignored it. The only consolation was that she had seemed genuinely upset about Pansy and him, despite her assurances to the contrary. Though how she had found out about them getting back together…

"Nothing."

He scoffed. She couldn't lie for her life's worth.

"Yeah, right, Granger, I saw the two of you snogging. And, by the way, you really shouldn't snog openly in the hallways. Had any other student seen you, it would really have undermined our authority as the Head Prefects."

As a deep red flush spread throughout Hermione's face, she thanked whatever deity was watching over her that it was dark and he wouldn't be able to notice. Mustering what dignity she had left, she said,

"Malfoy, I fail to see what business that is of yours. What Blaise and I do concern us, not you, nor anyone else."

Draco's hands clenched. She was right, after all. She could do whatever, with whomever, it wasn't his fucking business. Now, if only his mouth would get that message and stop asking foolish questions.

"Right."

There was a pause and then a sigh.

"We're just friends, okay? The kiss was…a mistake."

Draco was as shocked as Hermione at her admission. Both thought the same thing…why did she tell him that? Why did she feel the need to explain? She shouldn't have to explain to him. She wasn't Potty or Weasel…they weren't even _friends_!

"Right."

_Great going, Malfoy, _he internally berated himself._ You have __such a way with words._

Hermione sat up straight and raised an incredulous eyebrow at him.

"That's all you can say?"

"Well," he drawled, "what do you want me to say?"

"That you're not jealous anymore."

_Presumptuous __s__hit._

"Jealous? Now, do tell, why would I be jealous?"

Hermione laughed derisively.

"It's not like I haven't figured it out, Malfoy, I'm not _that_ naïve. I heard you broke up with Pansy a while back…you kissed me, told me you weren't playing games with me, you got pissed off because I was with Blaise, you saw us kissing and you stop talking to me properly for _two weeks_, you get back together with Parkinson and now you ask me about my relationship with Blaise."

"I don't fancy you, if that's what you think," he responded, tonelessly.

"I didn't say you do. I'm just saying that you feel somet –"

"The only thing I feel like doing is fucking you until you can't walk straight, but I don't suppose that's an option, is it?"

He knew what was coming, and was waiting for it eagerly.

"Why, you despicable, repulsive –_oomph_!"

_ For a bright witch, you are incredibly stupid! He was trying to rile you up! _Hermione thought as she found herself lying on top of Malfoy, in what could be considered as a very compromising position. As per usual, her arms were being held behind her back, and she was, for all intents and purposes, trapped.

Forcing her heartbeat to calm, she sighed.

"Malfoy, this is getting very boring."

Holding both her wrists in one hand, he wove his other hand into her hair and forced her head up to look at him. His eyes were breathtaking…full of –something. Lust.

"Is it?" he whispered huskily.

"Yes," she answered, praying that he didn't notice the waver in her voice.

He ignored her, and proceeded to study her face intently.

"Has anyone told you that you're beautiful, lately?"

Hermione's breath caught.

N-no. But then again, you're too busy telling me how ugly I am, so really, you shouldn't care."

"I lie."

Then he kissed her. Hermione couldn't think. All she could see behind her closed eyes were colours…an explosion of colours. She couldn't remember anyone, or anything else, other than the boy holding her close and ravishing her.

That was, until she felt it. His hand travelling up and down her bare back, his arousal pressing into her thigh, skin on skin.

She had been so caught up in his kisses, she hadn't even realised how far she had gone. Quickly, she broke off the kiss and pushed herself off him. At some point of time, he had released her hands and she had wound them around his neck. And now she was angry. Angry for letting him kiss her once again, angry for kissing him back. Angry for knowing that he had probably done the same thing to Pansy a few hours ago. And then again. And again. The thought made her sick.

Breathing hard, she began to button up her shirt with trembling hands, pointedly avoiding his gaze.

"What's wrong?"

Her head whipped around so fast, she got a crick in her neck.

"What's wrong?" she asked scathingly, massaging her neck. "You're what's wrong. Didn't Pansy satisfy you enough? Is that it? Is that why you –you're searching for an outlet? A means of release?"

Draco stood up too, and caught her arms again, but did not pull her to him.

"Is that what you think? That I just want to use you to get off?"

"Yes!"

"Well, you're wrong. I thought you were supposed to be clever. I thought you had figured it all out. This is the theory you've ended up with?"

"Well, what do you expect me to think?" Hermione all but yelled. "I saw Pansy leaving here when I came in, do you want me to believe that you two were playing Exploding Snap?"

"No! I'm sure you know very well what we were doing, but I don't want you to think that you're and outlet for what I feel for _her_!"

Hermione was repulsed. Purely repulsed. He hadn't even bothered denying that they had been shagging. She pulled her arms out of his grasp and ran up to her room. At least she hadn't disgraced herself by crying.

Draco flinched when he heard her bedroom door slam shut. He couldn't let this happen, not again. She needed to understand what she was to him, if even he didn't understand it himself. She needed to know Pansy was nothing but a poor replacement.

He slowly made his way up the stairs, to her bedroom, determined that she'd listen to him. Tonight, she had to.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys liked this chapter...I just had to post it because I felt pretty bad about leaving you guys in the dark about the whole Blaise issue D When I re-read chapter 10, I was like "Huh? Where did that _come _from?" too, but as Paula (you MUST remember her... my great beta and speed-reader extraordinaire?) said, that would be the plot twist ;)**

**Thanks to**

** TheresNothingInside (...umm, yeah, well here it is, hehe), kawaii-xx (glad you loved it!), iluvharryandron (if you already think Blaise is a -- in this fic..., well you ain't seen nuthin yet! lol), Keke Koorime (Yeah, I HAVE NO IDEA!! Lol, here it is), xxxxcrazychickxxxx (Well, you'll find out the 'why' soon enough "winks"), MalfoysOnlyChemo (thanks!), ryannenataly (lol, yeah, how come she gets all the hot guys??), OrbThesela ("shakes head" You B/Hr shipper, you. Lol...even though I'm partly to blame "winks")**

**for reviewing...and speaking of which. I'm having a mid-semester break right now, so if I get enough reviews for this chapter, I shall post 2 chapters next time I update (since they are pre-written), which will be sometime later this week. So leave your thoughts, suggestions, comments and/or constructive criticism :) **

**Cheers!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

"Granger, open the door."

No answer.

"Granger, open the fucking door!"

_Wow, Draco, tonight you're all sweet words and charm, aren't you? _Draco scowled. He had been saying unbelievably mundane things all night. This just _proved_ that Pansy was bad for him. If he spent any more time with her, he'd probably end up talking about which colour robes suited him best!

Well, not that he didn't know which colours suited him best (he was a Malfoy, after all, he dressed to look good), but talking about it was completely pointless.

And speaking of pointless, all his knocking and shouts still hadn't led Hermione to open the door. Or to, in any way, respond at all.

He sighed. He hadn't expected it to be easy, but it didn't have to be so hard, either.

"_Alohomora!"_

The charm was wasted upon her ever-locked door. He tried one more time.

"Granger, just…open up for a second. Hear me out and then you can do whatever you want."

He knew he sounded pathetic, like he was begging her (_Which you are!_ his mind added, snarkily)but he couldn't help it. She had, after all, turned him into this pathetic mess, so she should deal with the consequences. After what felt like an eternity, the door opened, revealing a weary, pyjama-clad Granger. Or rather, she seemed to be wearing a t-shirt several sizes larger than her, reaching mid-thigh.

"Are you actually wearing anything under that?"

Draco knew, the minute those words came out of his mouth, that he had said something very wrong. Outwardly, nothing changed, but he noticed that she stiffened, and her grip on the door tightened.

"Malfoy, I'm tired. So just spout whatever shit you came here to spout and then get the hell out of my face."

That stung like a slap to face.

"What the hell are you pissed off about?" he demanded, suddenly feeling angry himself. He really didn't need this right now. He didn't even know why he had bothered.

"Me? Pissed off? Never!" Hermione exclaimed, in a mock-surprised voice.

"Don't bullshit me. You're a bloody hypocrite, you know that?"

She didn't answer that immediately. Instead, she stepped out of her room, and closed the door behind her. Draco noticed that she was holding her wand in one hand. Leaning back against the closed door, she asked, coolly, "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

He scoffed. "Like you don't know. You're standing here, acting like an uptight, prissy bitch just because I slept with my _girlfriend_, and yet, it's ok for you to go around kissing Zabini, with whom, you say, you're just friends. Which makes me wonder, just how many _friends_ do you treat like that?"

Draco had been prepared for a slap, a hex, a verbal assault – anything other than her next reaction. Her shoulders slumped and her grip on her wand became so limp that it slipped out of her hand and fell onto the floor with a clatter. She didn't pick it up, but instead just looked down at it, as though expecting it to fly back into her hands on its own accord. Neither of them said anything for a long while and when Hermione looked back up at him, he could see that she was fighting to keep her tears at bay, and worrying her swollen lower lip between her teeth. Something in his chest clenched painfully at the sight of her worn-out, broken expression and he instantly wished he had kept his mouth shut.

"You're right," she sighed, after somewhat regaining her composure. "You're absolutely right. I have been acting like a hypocrite. I –I shouldn't have…I apologise. You have every right to sleep with your girlfriend and I have no right acting like that…after all, it's not like I'm anything to you. And about Blaise, too. I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm being unfair to him."

_She was being unfair to _BlaiseDraco thought. Now that was totally wrong. She was supposed to say that she was being unfair to Draco, not Blaise! But she hadn't finished speaking.

"But, keep this in mind, Malfoy. I wasn't the one who slept with my lover, and then kissed you less than an hour later. That was all you. Because I'm not that kind of girl. Call me prudish, or naïve, or whatever you want, but when I'm with someone, to me it's all about him, and no one else. So therefore, rest assured that _this_," she waved her hand between them, "will never happen again. Ever. Goodnight."

She picked up her wand and opened the door to her room, but his next question stopped her from entering.

"Didn't you say the two of you were only friends?"

"I did, Malfoy, but that doesn't mean that later we may not be something more than that."

The coldness was back in her voice. He knew she was angry, but he couldn't let them be together. She would only end up hurting herself with Blaise. He wasn't one for an exclusive relationship, and that was the only kind Hermione knew. Telling her that Blaise was no good wouldn't work, so he tried another tactic.

"Can you be with Zabini, knowing that you want someone else?"

He heard her breath hitch. She didn't turn around to face him, though.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she answered, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You know very well what I'm talking about," he whispered huskily, moving closer to her. "You know you want me, Granger. I'm not talking about love, or anything like that, I'm talking about pure lust. I can feel it radiating off you in waves…"

He circled an arm around her waist, bringing her back flush up against his front, and buried his face against her bushy-as-ever hair.

"How can you give this up for Zabini?" he asked, eyes closed, inhaling the scent of her hair.

His grip was loose and before he knew it, she had turned around and he could feel her wand tip at the base of his throat. Her eyes were almost spitting fire.

"I can give this up for Zabini because you obviously can't give Pansy up for _this_! I can give this up for Zabini because I don't form relationships based on lust alone. I can give this up for Zabini because I _know _that his only motive isn't to get into my pants. I am not foolish enough to think that he doesn't want to sleep with me at all, but I know that he also truly likes me and appreciates me for who I am, not for what's between my legs. And, last, but not least, I can give this up for Zabini because I am supposed to fucking loathe you, remember? And I _know _you loathe me. I refuse to be a quick lay for you, or for anyone else. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm not one of your slags, I'm not part of your fan club and I don't give a fuck how good you may be in bed. Because you're a terrible person and have always been. So stay the hell away from me."

With that, she quickly turned around and slammed the door in his face.

* * *

They didn't speak once after that. For once, Draco listened to Hermione and stayed away from her –as far away as possible. Messages regarding their duties were exchanged via other Prefects, but direct communication was never made. This didn't escape Blaise and Pansy's notice, both of whom had been keeping a very keen eye on the Heads.

"Blaise!"

Blaise turned around to see Pansy hurrying up to him, a smile on her face.

"Hey," he drawled, smiling back as she fell into step with him.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good. I'd ask you how you are, but I can see from your face that you're doing splendid."

Pansy laughed and pulled him into a dark alcove, away from prying eyes.

"Yes, I've never been better. Anyway, I just wanted to congratulate you on your excellent execution of our plan. It seems like we've finally gotten the two away from each other."

He smirked. "Well, as cliché as your plan was, it definitely worked."

"Of course, I told you it would!"

She smiled again and brushed a soft kiss on his lips.

"Thank you again, Blaise," she whispered. "You have no idea how much Draco means to me. I can't lose him to…her. Or anyone else for that matter."

"Anytime, Pans. You know that anything that hurts Malfoy is automatically my favourite thing. And besides, the Mudblood isn't too bad herself. I might just end up fancying her."

"Blaise! What are you saying?" Pansy asked, scandalized. "She is a Mudblood, she is _beneath _us!"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Pansy, you know I'm not a rigid follower of shit like that. And besides, it's not like I'm talking about marriage or settling down with her, I'm just saying that she isn't that bad…she definitely has her charms, as subtle as they may be. And her kisses are pretty addictive."

Pansy wasn't sure whether to be repulsed or amused. In the end she decided for the latter.

"And you can tell that from only one kiss?"

Blaise shrugged again. "See, that's how addictive they are."

"Is she even better than me?" Pansy pouted.

Blaise grinned and backed out of the alcove, with his hands in the air in a gesture of defeat.

"Uh, I'm not answering that…you might hex me or something. Come on, let's go to our lesson."

* * *

_This is it,_ Hermione thought as she stood in front of the full-length mirror and smoothed out her dress. Today was the day all the Prefects, including _him _and her had been working endlessly for the past two weeks. Tonight was the Masquerade Ball.

She took in a deep breath as she surveyed her attire. The dress she wore was nothing short of flattering, flaunting Hermione's curves in seductive, yet, decent manner. It was a strapless, dark green satin gown, with intricate patterns sown with a fine silver thread at the tight-fitting bodice, and a long, flowing skirt. The colours were very much Slytherin, but the dress itself was so beautiful, that Hermione didn't care. The best part was that no one would even suspect it to be her.

Once again, using copious amounts of Sleakeazy Hair Gel, she had tamed her hair into something much more silky and shiny and had tied it up into an elegant chignon. Makeup was not something she liked all that much, so she had limited its usage to only a slight dab of lip gloss and eyeliner.

She slipped on her heeled shoes and picked up her mask. This was something else that had caught her attention while she had been out hunting for an outfit. The mask was silver and covered only her eyes and the bridge of her nose, but it was just exquisite, reminding her of an opera mask with glittery sequins and feathers.

Finally satisfied with her appearance, she stepped out of her room, hoping that she was correct in her presumption that Malfoy had left already. She had heard the portrait open and close earlier and hoped that she would not bump into anyone else on her way out –that would be a sure giveaway.

She walked down the stairs gingerly, praying that she wouldn't trip over her dress or twist her ankle…one would think that wearing heels became easier as one grew older. Apparently that was not the case.

Once outside, she walked as hurriedly as shoes would allow to the Great Hall ("Oh Merlin, more stairs!" Hermione moaned), meeting only a few people on her way there.

The brightly-lit Great Hall was already full of people when she entered. The tables had been cleared out had been replaced by small, round tables around the hall, for those wishing to sit down. The Prefects had finally decided on buffet-type arrangement so one long table in the corner had been kept for the food and a neighbouring, smaller table for the punch.

As Hermione surveyed the crowd, she could see that most of the girls had donned half-masks like hers, some rather plain, and some more extravagant. The boys, too, had opted for half-masks, although they were much less dressier and more…masculine. Hermione had to contain her laughter at the sight of one (a first- or second-year, she surmised, judging by his height) wearing a mask of Jack the Ripper, which covered his whole face and had been charmed to let out evil laughter at sporadic intervals.

On the other end of the room sat the teachers, completely undisguised, at the Staff table, and seemingly pleased at the turn-out. A band Hermione didn't know was playing music on a dais that had definitely not been there before, close to the Staff table.

Hermione made her way to the punch bowl, noticing self-consciously that many male heads had turned to her. Their covered faces gave away no expression, and Hermione decided right then that maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. Maybe she should have just listened to Malfoy and dropped the idea. She looked around and wondered where Harry and Ron were…

"Ahem! Ladies and gentlemen!"

Hermione turned to face the Staff table, where Dumbledore was currently standing up to address the students. The music had died down and everyone was facing him expectantly.

"A few words, if I may. Firstly, I would like to remind all the students that you have, after all, been enchanted, and therefore should anyone reveal their true identities, you will be found out at once, and asked to leave. Secondly, the unmasking will take place at midnight, after which all years first through five have to leave," he smiled at the collective groan which issued from the students.

"Thirdly, you will not be able to perform any magic in the Hall. Should you attempt to do so, you will receive a particularly nasty Stinging Hex, which will more probably than not, leave a bruise. Lastly, I wish you all a happy Halloween! Enjoy!"

With a wave of his hand, the Great Hall dimmed slightly and conversation immediately resumed. Hermione was pleased to note that the students did seem to be mingling amongst each other, despite the fact that they didn't know who was who.

Sipping on her punch, she leant back against the table and surveyed the dancing crowd.

* * *

She looked astounding, there was no doubting that. Even through her mask, he could tell. He had initially been surprised by the colours of her dress – being a Gryffindor, he had expected her to show House solidarity. But instead she had chosen to wear his House colours. And they were very becoming on her. Very becoming indeed.

He made his way through the throng of students to where she was leaning against the punch table. She was looking in the opposite direction, so she didn't see him approaching. Moving stealthily, he crept up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Hey there, Granger," he whispered into her ear.

She jumped at the unexpected contact, but relaxed as she recognised his voice.

"Blaise!" she whispered throatily, caught between shock, amusement and apprehension. For a moment she had thought it was…_him. _Shaking her head mentally, she gave the arm wrapped around her a light smack and pulled out of his embrace, laughing and turning round, it was a little harder for him to blend in with the crowd, being so tall and broad.

"You scared the life out of me!"

"I did? Well I thought I would have been easier to identify than most."

"I meant you gave me a shock." She smiled at him.

"Did I now?" he murmured softly, taking her hand in his. "I do beg your forgiveness, my lady, it was not my intention to do so."

He kissed her hand softly, watching covertly as she fought down a blush.

"However, you are right to be afraid…beauty such as yours should not be left out in the open, unprotected."

Hermione giggled at his words and actions.

"Oh? And might you have a solution to this problem?" she enquired, playing along.

"Certainly," he bowed, "I shall protect you with my life."

Hermione couldn't help it. She burst out into laughter, tears of mirth gathering in her eyes.

"You mock my feelings?" he asked, feigning hurt.

"Of course not, silly. It just sounded so funny, I couldn't help myself! Anyhow, how did you know it was me?"

He shrugged and picked up a glass of punch for himself. "I figured that you'd be the most stunning girl in the room tonight."

This time Hermione was unable to keep herself from blushing and a red flush rapidly spread all over her face. It was a rarity, but at the moment, she was at a loss of words. So she said the only thing that came to mind. "Oh?"

He smirked and leant in closer, knowing fully the effect he was having on her.

"Of course, it wasn't too difficult," he whispered into her ear. "After all, I find you to be the most beautiful witch in the school…"

Hermione blinked once. Then again. She didn't know how to respond, and her growing embarrassment didn't help her cause. She took in a deep, shaky breath and opened her mouth to say something, except that she had no words.

_Has anyone told you that you're beautiful, lately?_

Draco's words came back to her with a flash. She swayed on her feet and closed her eyes as a pressure filled her chest. She felt as though she were about to chuck up…or cry.

_Draco_

"Hermione, are you okay?"

She opened her eyes to find Blaise gripping her shoulders and peering down at her, with what she assumed was a concerned expression. She gave a weak smile and nodded.

But was she okay? Because when she was okay, she didn't want to cry. When she was okay, she didn't want to puke. When she was okay, she did NOT think about Draco Malfoy. When she was okay, she didn't _need _to be with him. So, no, she was not okay.

"Hermione," Blaise started, looking worried now. "Why don't you go sit at that table over there," he pointed at a free table, "and I'll go get you something to eat. You look like you could use it."

She nodded and walked over to the table he had motioned at, still feeling slightly nauseous. Draco's words were still echoing in her head, albeit more softly than before. She didn't know what had possessed her to react in such a way.

_Maybe you miss him, _that annoying voice in her head suggested. She quenched it and looked around, unconsciously searching for the head of white-blonde hair that would, perhaps, bring her some peace.

* * *

He hadn't gone. He hadn't even liked the idea in the first place. Stupid, stupid Masquerade Ball. Stupid Mudblood.

So he had accepted Pansy's invitation to spend some time with her and a few other Slytherins who weren't going, in the Slytherin Common Room. At least there would be alcohol.

"Stupid Ball," Nott slurred, setting his almost-empty bottle of Firewhisky on the ground. "I mean, how old does that Mudblood think we are? Five?"

He blew a raspberry as the others muttered their agreement.

Whitney Whitehouse, another seventh-year Slytherin, reached out and plucked the bottle out of Nott's reach.

"I don't know, Theo," she started, taking a deep swig. "I mean, Blaise went."

Goyle grunted.

"Fancies the Mudblood, doesn't he? Makes sense that he'd go."

Everyone looked at Goyle in surprise. He shrugged.

"What? I'm not blind."

"Yeah, but you must be dumb though, if you think he actually _fancies _her. He's just trying to get into her pants, you moron!" Whitehouse scathed.

"And what if he does fancy the bitch?" Draco bit out.

Whitehouse surveyed him for a moment and crawled over to where he was sprawled out in front of the fireplace.

"Draco," she whispered, bringing her face closer to his own. He could see her eyes darken in drunken lust. "Blaise may be a lot of things, but he isn't a blood traitor. I know you don't like him, but trust me on this one."

She placed a soft kiss on his lips before a pair of hands pulled her away. She turned to look into the cold, hard eyes of one furious Pansy Parkinson.

"Hands off, Whitehouse."

Whitehouse smiled and raised her hands in mock surrender.

"Just playing, Pansy, darling. I know Draco can never be mine, isn't that right, Draco?" she turned to him as he winked at her playfully and smirked.

"What can I say? I'm unattainable."

"Does that mean that even I can't attain you, Draco?" Pansy pouted, as she proceeded to straddle him.

Draco rolled his eyes and fought to keep his disgust from showing on his face. "Yes, Pansy," he replied, lifting her off him. "It does."

He noted, in amusement, as Pansy sulked and Whitehouse smirked. He picked up his own bottle of Firewhisky and finished its remaining contents in one go. He lay back down, clasping his hands together beneath his head, tuning out the conversation around him. That had been his second bottle, and here he was, as sober as ever, not even close to inebriation.

Usually, he was glad at the amount he could drink without actually getting _drunk_. It was amusing to watch the antics of others as they stumbled around in drunken stupors, unaware of their actions until the morning after, and even then, some not.

But not tonight. Tonight he wanted it. Wished for it. It was the only form of escapism he could think of, because she was _fucking everywhere_. He was so angry at her and he _still_ couldn't get her out of his head. He summoned another bottle. He would not give up.

* * *

An hour later, Hermione was still feeling nauseous. Blaise had come back, plate filled with finger food and all kinds of appetizers and had urged her to eat at least some of it. It would make her feel better, he said.

_Yeah, right, _she thought. If anything, she felt worse. Not that she would complain to Blaise. Merlin knew she was already acting rather off with him, so he was putting up with more than enough as it was; sitting by her side as she refused (as politely as possible) his offers to dance, showing due concern at her state and fussing over her. Complaining would surely drive him away.

_Maybe that's what you want._

She snorted inaudibly at that thought. Why would she want to drive Blaise away? He was a nice boy, intelligent, handsome and had a great personality. He was caring, expressed his affection openly and she _knew _that her friends wouldn't mind _too_ much if she did end up with him. So, he was a Slytherin. But that wasn't exactly a major deciding factor in her life...in a few months, it wouldn't even matter.

So then, _why _would she want to drive him away?

_Oh, I don't know...because of a certain Draco Malfoy, perhaps?_

Circles. That's what her thoughts travelled in these days. Round and round in dizzying circles, spiralling down, deeper and deeper, but always starting and ending up at the same point.Draco Malfoy. Even after their argument, even after she had said all those things to him and _meant every single word, _he was still stuck, _fucking lodged _there in her head, the starting point of all her thoughts and their ending point too. Not that her thoughts ever really ended, because as soon as they reached their 'ending point', they would start again. Always about him.

There was no denying it, really. She felt something for him. Just..._something. _It wasn't defined, not even in her head. She couldn't call it a crush, because that word seemed too small, too insignificant to describe her feelings for him. She couldn't call it love, because it was so much darker, and uglier than that. It wasn't hate. And it wasn't just lust. Sure – lust played a medium-sized role in the feeling, but there was something more. Something that made her feel sick to her stomach but addicted her to the sensation. Made her want more. And there was such a fine line between wanting more and needing more. Was she obsessed?

_No! Hermione Granger does NOT have obsessions, _she firmly thought to herself. Especially not obsessions that were harmful to her sanity. No, Hermione Granger was too self-preserving to be obsessed over Draco Malfoy. But still…

"Hermione."

Blaise's voice broke her out of her thoughts.

"Are you feeling better now? Do you want to go outside and take in some fresh air or something?"

A walk. Yes. Definitely, some fresh air to clear out her toxic, deranged thoughts. But no…

"Blaise," she sighed, praying that he'd understand. "I think I want to go up to my room and just rest for a while. All these Head duties and late nights finally seem to be getting the best of me.

He smiled and rose up, offering her his hand.

"I hope you will not deny me the luxury of escorting you back to you room, my lady."

She smiled weakly and placed her hand in his. Even as they walked up to the Head dormitories, she couldn't help but feel that this was a big mistake.

When they finally reached the currently empty portrait of Barnabus the Brilliant, Blaise didn't let go of her hand. She turned to look at him questioningly.

"Won't you take off your mask?" he asked, removing his own.

"Why? It's nothing you've never seen before...it's still the same old Hermione under this mask."

He let go of her hand, bringing it up to her waist and pulling her closer. His other hand slowly skimmed her jaw line, traced her lips, her cheek and finally caught hold of the bottom of her mask.

"Maybe so," he whispered, pulling her even closer and simultaneously lifting the mask off her face. "But a mask can be quite a hindrance when you want to kiss someone..."

Hermione gulped, her eyes widening momentarily as she felt her mask being pulled off. His own had been discarded during the walk. There was something about Blaise right now that intimidated her...the last thing she wanted was to kiss him, but something told her that he would probably kiss her whether she wanted him to or not. And that was frightening.

Her mask was completely off her face now and she felt, rather than saw, Blaise tossing it to the ground next to them. What she could see, however, was how unusually dark his eyes were and how they were trained on her lips, and how his head was lowering...

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the blood-traitor and his little Mudblood pet. What next, Zabini? Going to start hanging out with the Golden Trio?"

Hermione had never been more relieved to hear Draco's sneering voice than she was at the moment.

"Malfoy!" she gasped, turning her head to look at him.

He was drunk. And he was ignoring her. His face was sporting a sneer and if looks could kill, Blaise would have felt the impact of twelve simultaneous _Avada_s.

"Malfoy," Blaise said pleasantly, not releasing his hold on Hermione. "How nice of you to join us."

Draco shook his head and walked towards the portrait.

"No Blaise, I don't do threesomes involving guys. Maybe you should look for Longbottom. Although..."

He finally looked at Hermione, or rather, leered at her.

"I never thought you had it in you, Mudblood. Kinky."

Smirking at outraged couple, he looked to the portrait, groaning to find it empty.

"Where the fuck is that idiotic, ponce when you need him?"

He looked at Hermione and Blaise, as though they could provide him with an answer. When all he received were blank and, in Blaise's case, furious stares, he shrugged nonchalantly and sunk down to the floor, his back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him.

"No matter," he stated to the silent pair next to him. "I can wait."

And he promptly passed out.

Blaise looked down at the unconscious boy disdainfully, finally letting go of Hermione.

"He is definitely drunk. I can't imagine him willingly coming into contact with the kind of dirt you'd find in hallways unless he's completely shit-faced."

Hermione remained silent for a moment, unsure of what to do. Awkwardly, she looked around her, hoping to find Barnabus in a neighbouring portrait. No such luck.

"Blaise, I can't just leave him here! It's my duty as Head Girl, to do something about this."

"You're right. Go report this to Dumbledore, because it's Malfoy's duty as Head Boy to not get shit faced within school premises."

She knew he was right, of course. She should do just that. But she couldn't.

"I can do that later but first I need to get him into the Common Room, at least! If only..."

She huffed in frustration and looked at the empty canvas once again. Tonight was most definitely not in her favour.

* * *

**A/N: There you go…hope you liked it :) **

**Feel free to leave your thoughts, comments, or anything else, on this chapter as a review…before moving on to the second one, which also has been posted...as promised ;)**


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13:**

He didn't know what woke him, but he cursed whatever it was, to the ends of hell. The pain in his head was overwhelming and he had to blink several times to clear his blurred vision. He was lying on the plush carpet of his common room, tucked under a blanket. His shoes and socks had been taken off, along with his robes and they lay in a neat, folded pile next to him.

He slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around. _She _was nowhere in sight, and he took that as a blessing. He didn't think he could face her after his highly inappropriate actions of the night before. Because he did remember. With a startling clarity, at that. If it weren't for the fact that his head felt as though it was going to implode into itself, he would never have guessed the staggering amount of alcohol he had consumed in order to get himself to that level of drunkenness.

He got up and picked up his things, wincing slightly as he bent down to do so. He wondered if Hermione had brought him in and set him up in the common room. Probably. It was like her to do something like that. Hurt you and then pick you up and help you out.

_Bitch._

Did he expect her to be grateful? Because he wasn't. He would have preferred to find himself on the cold, hard floor of the hallway, rather than warm and comfortable in the common room, knowing that _she_ had helped him. It comforted him a little bit to know that, at least, she hadn't gone back to lip-locking with Zabini. He felt a surge of pleasure, knowing that he had interrupted a _moment _between the two. One _moment _less. Yay.

He climbed the spiralling staircase slowly, his body feeling sluggish and his head pounding. Morgana, he was _never _going to drink again. Ever.

"Oh, you're up."

His head snapped up. Right in front of him stood the one person he really didn't want to see right now. "Did you expect me to sleep for the rest of the year?" he asked, scathingly.

She seemed unaffected by his tone and shrugged. "Maybe. You sleep like the dead."

"I was drunk."

"Yes, you made that quite obvious last night, thank you."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Granger, you need to move. You're blocking my path."

"So? You move, you're blocking mine.."

He growled. "Granger, I'm having a skin-splitting headache, okay? So I can't really take this shit from you right now. Move over."

"If you have a headache, then it's your own fault. You move."

"My own fault? What the –? Haven't you ever gotten drunk before?" He paused for a second and then slapped a hand against his forehead, as if making a revelation. "Of course you don't drink! Saints such as yourself usually don't have such tendencies."

She looked at him coldly. "Well, I can't be much of a saint now, can I? What with all of my kinkiness and endless love for threesomes. That's hardly what I'd call saintly behaviour."

She pushed past him and made her way to the portrait hole. In five seconds, she was out of sight.

* * *

"Oh Merlin, _where were you last night?_ I was looking all over, hoping to find you, or Harry or Ron, and I ended up talking to this guy, and we were getting along so well, I thought he might be Seamus or Martin Hopkirk – you know, Gryffindor, my year? But when we unmasked, it turned out to be Jonah Whitmore...sixth-year Slytherin, sister's in your year, Amy or something like that. And it was beyond awkward. So I asked him to dance –"

"Wait, you what?" Harry interjected angrily.

Ginny waved an impatient hand at his question and continued narrating her story to Hermione, who was listening with an amused expression.

"Anyway, so I asked him to dance, and we did and _thankfully, _we started talking again and he is nothing like all those other nasty Slytherins! Boy, was that a revelation! What about you, Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged casually. "I went for a while, but I felt really ill, so I left early."

Ginny made a sympathetic face. "Are you okay now? You really should stop stressing yourself out too much."

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yes, _mum_. What about you, Ron?"

"Don't ask," Ron grumbled.

Harry smirked. "He ended up talking to –"

"Hey! You said you weren't going to bring that up!"

"Right. Sorry, Hermione, can't say."

Ginny laughed evilly. "But I can. No, Ron, your puppy-dog look doesn't work on me, I find it quite revolting actually. He was talking to Eloise Midgen, only that he didn't know it was her before she took her mask off. She really had disguised her acne well with that mask. She looked pretty."

Hermione laughed merrily, knowing Ron's feelings towards Eloise hadn't changed much in the past few years. His reaction to any mention of her was always comic.

"Anyhow, Hermione, what were you wearing?"

"Erm, a green and silver dress."

Ron and Harry's mouth fell open. Even Ginny looked a bit surprised.

"What? Why are you lot ogling at me like that?"

"With that silver mask?" Ginny enquired, suddenly excited.

"Yes."

"Oh, Hermione, you looked absolutely marvellous!" Ginny gushed. "I was wondering who it was wearing that gorgeous dress – will you lend it to me sometime?"

"Eh," Ron warned, "I don't want my sister wearing a dress like that. When you go out, you have to cover yourself up from head to toe."

"Says who?" Ginny challenged, as Harry imagined her in Hermione's dress.

"Says mum, if I accidentally mentioned it in a letter to her."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

"What's wrong with that dress? I thought it was quite decent," Hermione said, frowning.

"Decent, yes, but seductive!" Ginny said, grinning devilishly.

"Too much so," Ron mumbled under his breath.

Hermione smiled shyly.

"Hey, who was that guy you were with?" Harry asked, suddenly.

Hermione laughed nervously, not sure how they would react when they found out.

"Oh, that was, umm, Blaise. He sort of recognised me and so he came over, and, erm...you know."

Ron was frowning. Ginny was smirking. Harry was expressionless.

"No, we don't." Ginny replied.

Hermione huffed. "We just hung out. And I told him I didn't feel too well, so we left early. Honestly. We didn't end up in the throngs of a passionate embrace or have mind-blowing sex... We didn't even kiss. No big deal."

Ron looked slightly happier, Ginny looked rather downtrodden and Harry was still expressionless.

"Oh well," Ginny conceded. "Maybe next time."

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe."

_Or not._

* * *

"You're still here?" Draco looked up from where he was sitting and scowled.

"This is my common room too, Granger. I don't think I need to consult with you on when I can, or cannot be here. Now, you on the other hand, aren't you supposed to be with Blaise, or those other tiresome boyfriends of yours?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and unclasped her robe, placing it on the floor, by the cushion she proceeded to sit on.

"I would have been, except that I couldn't find Blaise. I was hoping to take part in a _humongous _orgy tonight, but I guess that's not happening," she bit out.

Draco glanced at her, surprised by her words. "Please, don't tell me you're still upset about what I said yesterday?"

"Okay, fine. I won't tell you."

"You are?" His tone was sceptical.

She remained silent, staring into the fire instead.

"I was fucking drunk, okay? Get over it."

No response. Draco exhaled loudly.

"Did you bring me into the room yesterday?"

"No, I summoned over some of my threesome buddies and they helped me –"

"For Merlin's sake, I fucking apologise, alright? I was drunk and pissed off at you and I hate Blaise, so I just said shit."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Whatever. Yes, I did levitate you into the common room. I would have taken you into your bedroom but I wasn't in the mood of trying to figure out a way past the wards you've surely set up."

"Right."

Silence.

"Why didn't you come? To the Ball, I mean."

Draco shrugged and didn't answer for a while. When he did, it was with a question. "Does it make a difference?"

"Yes."

The answer was automatic and made Hermione blush deep red. She couldn't begin to imagine what had possessed her to say such a thing and prayed that he wouldn't turn to look at her, but as he luck would have it, he did.

"How so?" he asked, one eyebrow raised, face showing a slight hint of amusement.

"Well, erm, the – uh, the students. I mean, it undermines my authority as Head Girl if the Head Boy doesn't show up to things like this."

"You're a crap liar, Granger,"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she sunk into her seat. "Like you'd never imagine," she muttered, hating herself momentarily.

He smirked. "So, what was the real answer?"

Hermione cast him a steely glare. "There is no _real _answer. And plus –" she steered the conversation away from the currently embarrassing topic, "I should report you to Professor Dumbledore for your inappropriate conduct last night."

"So, do it then."

"What?"

"Go. Report me. I dare you to."

Hermione stared at him in surprise. "Ok," she said, getting to her feet and picking up her robe. "I'm going."

He looked over at her lazily. "Fine, go ahead."

"Fine," she retorted, still unmoving.

"Uh, Granger, the exit's that way," he said, pointing to said exit.

They stared hard at each other for one gaping pause, before she stomped her foot in frustration and plopped down into the cushion again, discarding her robe.

"Bloody hell, Granger, what happened to all that Gryffindor courage and righteousness?"

"Fuck you."

"You care too much about people."

"I don't care about you."

"Then why don't you go to Dumbledore."

"I'm giving you the benefit of doubt."

"But I _want_ you to go and tell Dumbledore."

"Then go and tell him yourself."

"Why can't you do it? There's nothing stopping you…"

"I DON'T KNOW, ALRIGHT?" she finally said loudly, angry that she was trapped by his questions. "I just don't know…"

Her voice had lowered to a whisper and her breathing was heavy.

"You're messed up, Granger."

"Only because you've made me that way," she replied, no longer caring what she said or how she sounded. He was as messed up as her. So who gave a knut?

Draco, however, wasn't expecting that answer and almost choked on the air he breathed in. Almost, but not quite. He was also quite relieved. Because he wasn't the only one. She was in it too. The same place, the same feelings. Maybe. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. After that admission, what _could_ he say? That he was sorry? Because he wasn't, really. He didn't _care _for her as Potter or Weasley did, and they weren't _friends _He wasn't in love with her and didn't even like her that muchHe _wanted _her and that was a different thing. That was all about his dick and had nothing to do with his heart. If he had one.

So they sat in silence for a very long while, each lost in their own thoughts, but very aware of the other's presence. Finally, Hermione let out a short breath of air that could have been a laugh or a sigh. "I don't even know why I bother."

"What?"

"You."

"Granger, what are you talking about? It surprises me how you manage to do so well in school, considering how utterly unintelligible you usually are."

"Well, considering how limited your understanding is, I wouldn't expect you to understand what I say. It's way above your level, actually."

"Then how is it you walk around with those two morons?"

"You know, you think about Ron an Harry too much. You bring them up in almost all our conversations, you're constantly in their face…are you secretly in love with them?"

"Oh most definitely!" He said mockingly. "Although a lot less than what your affection for Crabbe and Goyle."

"Oh, my," Hermione replied tonelessly, "I guess my secret's been revealed."

"Don't worry, I won't tell if you don't."

"Right. What were you doing last night?"

"I don't believe that's any of your business."

"I'm Head Girl."

"Right. Not my keeper, not my mother, not my girlfriend, not my lover."

"I don't think 'lover' is an apt term to associate with you in any situation at all. I don't think you can love at all."

"Maybe. But I can make love to a girl, and very well at that."

"Malfoy, I have no idea how you got that big, fat head through the door. And I don't believe you can make love to anyone either. Fuck, yes. Have sex with, yes. Make love, no."

He smirked.

"You think?"

"Definitely. All talk."

He looked at her then, as though contemplating something. She watched as his tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip. That small, but sensual gesture sent slight shivers up and down her spine, as she recalled, in vivid detail, the havoc that tongue had wreaked on her senses, time and time again. When he finally started speaking, Hermione had to force herself out of her lust-filled thoughts to concentrate on his words.

" – show you?"

"Erm, what?"

"I said, why don't –" he moved off his cushion and closer to her, "you let me –", he was kneeling down in front of her, but was still taller than her…sometimes she forgot how tall he was, "show you?"

She couldn't, not again. No matter _how _she felt.

Just as his lips were going to fall upon hers, she turned her head to the side, feeling them brush against her cheek instead.

"No, Malfoy. We can't keep doing this."

He slowly lifted his head away from hers and surveyed her for a while.

"And why ever not?"

"Because it's not healthy."

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not a masochist and I won't keep letting myself get hurt. Like the last time."

He frowned pensively.

"I didn't think a few kisses hurt. You looked like you were quite enjoying them, actually."

She rolled her eyes in frustration.

"I didn't mean _physical _pain, Malfoy. Have you always had the emotional range of an egg?"

"I have no idea what –"

"You'll never understand. You're just too –"

" – going on about shit like this, it almost makes me think –"

" –you wouldn't understand even if it flashed –"

" –too complicated for your own –"

"I like you, okay?"

Silence.

Hermione closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe properly. She seemed to be breathing in too much air –she felt suffocated. As aware as she was at that moment, she felt, rather than heard him, leave.

* * *

"Ah, Miss Granger, please, do have a seat."

She smiled as she sat down in a chair opposite Dumbledore.

"Sherbet Lemon, Miss Granger?" he offered, waving out a box.

She shook her head.

"Professor, you said you needed to see me...?"

"Ah, yes. Well then, first I would like to congratulate you for the excellent Ball you organized. It was tremendously amusing – though I must say, your absence was rather surprising."

"Uh, yes, Professor, I'm sorry, but I wasn't feeling too well, and went back to my room to rest."

"Yes, yes, of course, I understand. But would you happen to have any knowledge as to where Mr. Malfoy was that night?"

She shook her head, unsure of how to respond.

"I'm not sure as to where he was, but he arrived at our common room shortly after I did and immediately went to sleep."

This technically wasn't a lie, but Hermione had trouble saying it anyway. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but lately she had been doing a lot of things she would never have thought herself capable of. Like telling Draco that she fancied him.

"Hmm, I see. And, Miss. Granger, what are your impressions of this Head Boy? Does he work well with you?"

"Malfoy and myself – well, it's common knowledge that we don't get along very well, and we never have...so given the circumstances, I would say that our communication has improved greatly. I think we have come a long way from what we were before."

_Oh Merlin! _

"That's very good, I'm pleased to hear it. Well, keep up the good work, Miss Granger."

She took that as her cue to leave and got up, straightening out her robes.

"Oh, and Miss Granger, please, send in Mr. Malfoy on your way out."

She nodded and walked out of the office, heart pounding. She hadn't talked to Malfoy in a little over a week – ever since she had made that unwanted and unexpected confession. Their lack of communication, however, was not for the lack of her trying. Funnily enough, this time, he was the one avoiding her – desperately. If, by any miracle, she did happen to be in the same place as him, he would be out of the door well before she could form a sentence.

She continued her walk down the hallway to the spiral staircase, wondering where Malfoy was –they had come up together –in a manner of speaking, at least, since he had sped up and had walked a good five metres in front of her the whole time.

She spotted him close to the staircase, leaning against the wall casually, examining his fingernails – or maybe just pointedly ignoring her. Her presence was acknowledged by a slight stiffening of his posture, but other than that, nothing changed.

"Malfoy."

He didn't look up. She sighed.

"Malfoy, Dumbledore wants you in his office, now."

He left.

* * *

**A/N: So…here it is. Hope it was worth the effort of your reviews and your…erm..24-hour wait. I did say I would post the chapter later this week, but unfortunately, since I will be busy tomorrow, I posted them today instead.**

**Okay…now, thanks to**

**xxxxcrazychickxxxx, OrbThesela **(Aww, well, I like the B/Hr ship too, if that's any consolation…not as much as D/Hr, though. And THANK YOU for betaing!!)**, ddani **(Ooh, I'm flattered, actually… "blushes"…hope you enjoy the updates)**, TheresNothingInside **(If he didn't have problems…this story would be over. Lol, well hope you enjoyed these chapters)**, ryannenataly **(Draco is….insufferable. But honest, yes.)**, Murgy31, iluvharryandron **(I don't think Draco has the potential to ever make Hermione 'understand'…their relationship is too volatile, but well…hehe)**, MalfoysOnlyChemo **(well, she had to clear out the whole affair with Ron, or else, this story would be a mess with all these guys and only one girl…thanks, glad you like it!)**, Fozzy-Floozy **(let's hope it stays that way :D)**, pink-beat **(I'm glad you like it, although, I must clear it out…at this point, all there is on Draco's side is lust…he hated Hermione, so he can't suddenly fall in love with her…that's just –unreal)**, gtbioteach, sarabara8692 **(what can I say, I am evil! But to make up for it, I post quickly ;D)**, xl-lisa-lx, MrsRaisaMalfoy and KekeKoorime **

**for reviewing the last chapter…you all rock! And so do those who favourited (think I made up a word there :S) this story and added it to their alert list…danke! (German for thanks)**

**Now, I'd really appreciate it if you guys would help me with something…and I hope it's not a lot that I'm asking for…before I post the next chapter, I'd love it if all my readers would help me reach my 100****th**** review mark…will you guys? **

**Till then, **

**Rae **


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

Breaking stress. In Muggle physics, that would be the amount of stress that finally broke an object. Like a rubber band, being stretched and stretched until it finally snapped.

But Hermione didn't want to snap. She didn't want to let the stress that was Draco Malfoy break her. She wouldn't let that happen.

It had been a week since she had lied in Dumbledore's office and a fortnight since she had admitted her feelings to Draco. She didn't like to think about it, because she hated knowing that she was keeping count. Keeping count of the days he didn't look at her, talk to her and, most probably, think of her. Keeping count of the days _he _most definitely wasn't keeping count of.

She sighed and looked back down to the book she was reading about goblin warfare. End of term exams were just around the corner (even though Harry and Ron didn't seem to think that three weeks fell under the 'around-the-corner' category) and she hadn't started revising properly until last week. But now she was back in her element. _This _is what Hermione Granger did. She revised. She passed with flying colours. Then she revised some more. No matter what, she came out on top. Because she wanted to, and because she could. And part of her was relieved that that was something even Draco Malfoy couldn't change.

Seventy-five pages and three feet of 'quick' notes later, she closed the book and looked up at her silent and ever-concentrated study partner. He was frowning slightly, turning his quill over in one hand, as the other hand traced light patterns over the surface of the table, occasionally lifting to turn the page.

She smiled slightly.

"And they call me studious."

He looked up, momentarily confused at her sudden statement, before understanding dawned upon him, and he adopted a mock-glare.

"I am not studious. I am just a very concentrated person."

"You looked pretty studious there to me."

"Well, you saw wrong, then."

Hermione laughed then, and stood up, packing away her books.

"Fine, whatever you say, Mr. I'm-too-macho-to-be-studious. I'm going down to dinner. Are you coming or would you rather stay here and _concentrate _some more?"

"Of course I'm coming!" he said, and made a quick job of packing his things away too.

They walked down the halls together in a comfortable silence. He walked close enough to her to brush his hand against hers every once in a while. She didn't really mind, and so made no effort to move away from him. It was such a simple gesture, and in a strange way, so comforting, that she almost wanted it. Almost wanted it to go further than just brushing, further than just momentary contact between their skins.

Almost.

They turned once again, into the third year corridor, feet moving automatically, minds fixed only on one destination. She could hear their footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor, and her own rapid breaths. Her heartbeat accelerated. Bile rose in her throat, and all of a sudden her stomach was full of butterflies. She felt sick, and excited at the same time. She knew something was going to happen.

Then she heard it. The moans. The rhythmic pounding. The name.

"Oh, Draco, yes!"

Followed by a very male groan.

Pansy.

Draco.

Hermione walked on, even as her world crumbled around her. Walked on, even as her throat tightened and the tears threatened to spill out. Walked on, even as her legs became shaky. Walked on as though she had heard nothing. Because she'd had enough. And in her mind, that had been_ her_ breaking stress.

She felt his hand brush against hers again. This time, she caught it and entwined her fingers around his.

Next to her, Blaise smiled.

* * *

"Hi, Blaise,"

Blaise smirked down at the girl who was currently seated on the sofa in the Slytherin Common Room.

"I take it you had fun last night," he commented wryly, taking in her pleasant demeanour.

She nodded. "I did. So you heard us, did you?"

"We did."

Pansy smirked.

"And how did the Mudblood take it?"

He smiled slightly. "She held my hand."

Pansy looked at him, an eyebrow raised at this admission.

"And you _let _her?"

Blaise rolled his eyes at her tone.

"Pansy, I've shared saliva with the girl. Holding her hand isn't going to kill me."

"But – but Blaise, she's a _Mudblood_. You can't possibly think –"

He held up his hand to silence here.

"Pansy, the plan worked out fine. You got what you wanted and I... well, let's just say that I've got what I want. No further discussion."

She shrugged. What Blaise did really didn't bother her. And he was right, after all. She wanted Draco. She had him.

* * *

"What do you mean I'm 'being fussy'? Ron, exams are less than three weeks away and _you _aren't revising at all! Don't expect me to lend you my notes again this year, because you should know better!"

"Oh, come on, Hermione, there's still some time left! It's not like this is our NEWTs or anything! And plus, I've been busy with Quidditch practice."

"Then maybe you should take a little break from Quidditch!"

She received three glares.

"What? It can't be more important than your NEWTs!"

Ginny shook her head. "Hermione, you just don't understand Quidditch."

Hermione threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "Fine. Fine, you guys just stay here and do what-_the-hell-ever _you want, I'm leaving. Because, obviously, I don't _understand _enough to actually stay."

She picked up her bag and robes and stomped off, leaving behind three very confused teenagers.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, scratching his head, as his bishop sliced away at Ron's rook on the chessboard.

"No idea, mate," Ron replied, looking just as confused.

They looked to Ginny, who immediately backed away.

"No way am I going to talk to her when she's liable to bite my head off, just because I breathe the wrong way. Absolutely not."

They looked at each other once again, at a complete loss.

"Fine," Harry finally said, standing up, "I'll go."

Ignoring their surprised looks, he got up, brushed himself off and took off in the direction Hermione had disappeared too. He knew they found it strange that he had volunteered to talk to her, because normally he wouldn't have. He would have just blamed her bad mood on the upcoming exams, which wasn't unheard of, and not question it. But today he had seen it. In truth, he had been seeing it for the past few days, but she always managed to keep it within herself, hide it behind the laughter, or hide herself behind her books. Just pretend it wasn't happening, and yes, she was still the same old Hermione, no, of course nothing had changed.

And outwardly, nothing really had. If you weren't looking for it you would have missed it. If you weren't best friends with her, you would have missed it. Absently he wondered _how _Ron and Ginny had missed it. Missed seeing the look in her eyes – the feeling that she was losing control of everything she had some degree of control on before. Losing control of her life. That she was letting go. That she was tired. Merlin knew that they should recognise that look easily by now – he himself had displayed it on more than one occasion. And Hermione had always seen it, always stood by him, if not anything, then at least to _show _him that she _was there. _She was there. And now he had to return the favour. Even if he couldn't do anything, he just had to let her know that he was there too.

He stopped at the end of the corridor and mentally cursed himself for not bringing along the map. She could have either gone to the library or she could have gone to visit Hagrid. Or she could be anywhere else in the castle. On impulse, he made his way outside. He picked up his pace as he stepped outside, once again cursing himself for not having thought about the chill outside. He took the path to Hagrid's house, spotting Hermione walking briskly some way ahead of him.

"Hermione!"

She didn't hear, or maybe, didn't want to.

"HERMIONE!"

This time she did hear. She stopped and turned around, waiting for him to catch up. He ran the rest of the way to where she stood.

"Hi," he panted, slightly out of breath.

"Hi."

"Going to Hagrid's?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Well, that _is _where this path leads. I'm not exactly going into the Forbidden Forest."

"Okay. But can we talk first?"

She sighed. "Harry there's nothing to talk about."

"Okay," he conceded, "then, how about if I talk, and you listen?"

She shrugged and looked at a point past his shoulder, her eyes momentarily flaring with hurt, before the shutters fell back into place again.

He took a deep breath and started.

"I know this year probably hasn't started off easy for you. What with Malfoy being Head Boy, and all, I can tell you're having a hard time. That's not to say that you can't handle it," he added hastily, upon seeing the look on her face, "but it's taking its toll."

"Harry," she began, monotonously, "I –"

He held up his hand, cutting her off. "Wait. I know there's something else too. I'm not going to ask you what it is, or _who _it is, but just –" he broke off, running his hand through his already windswept hair. Damn, he really wasn't good at this sort of thing. "Just don't let it get the better of you, Hermione. Whatever it is, don't let it break you down. You're stronger than that."

He hadn't known what to expect then, but was still rather surprised when she hugged him. He could tell she was crying by the way she was lightly shaking, but for once he didn't feel awkward. His friend needed him and he was there. He was there for her.

Wrapping his arms around her, he waited until she calmed down and muttered a 'thank you', before hastily wiping at her eyes.

"Harry," she said, finally looking up at him. "I –I don't think I'm going to Hagrid's after all. I..I just need some time alone. To think."

He gave her a shrewd look, but didn't protest. He knew how that felt, too. So he nodded, and after giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

* * *

Draco was getting tired of Pansy. Not that she hadn't been tiresome before, but now she really was getting on his nerves. She redefined the word 'clingy' and took it to a whole new level. Hardly leaving his side for more than five minutes, except to sleep (in her own dormitories). And she was acting strangely too. Like seducing him in an empty classroom a few nights prior. He had marked it down to a fantasy of hers and indulged her, but, hell the bint had been _loud_. Normally, she was loud, but that night, she was loud enough to rouse the whole castle. Loud enough to make him want to grab his wand and _silencio _her, just to protect his eardrums.

And now she was here, sitting next to him on the sofa in the Slytherin Common Room, and clinging onto his arm like her life depended on it and talking to Millicent Bulstrode. He was quite sure that she was cutting off his blood supply, too. Any moment now, his arm would turn blue. Maybe that would be enough to scare her off.

" –isn't that right, Drakie-poo?"

Something in his head snapped. He stiffened and removed his arm from her grasp.

"My name is _Draco. _Can you say it, Pansy? D-R-A-C-O. Not _Drakie_-poo. And if you _ever_ call me Drakie-poo again, I will forget who you are, and I will hex you. I mean it."

She looked shocked, as did Millicent. Good. He had had enough of her these past few days. To avoid Hermione, he had taken to spending time in the Slytherin Common Room, and Pansy had taken it upon herself to entertain him. Or maybe he was entertaining her. Either ways, that was going to stop. It had to, before he completely lost his head.

He turned to leave.

"Wait. Where are you going, Draki –erm, Draco?"

"Away from you," was his curt reply. "And, Pansy. Don't follow me. In fact, I don't want you anywhere near me for the next couple of days. Got that?"

Without waiting for an answer, he swept off, leaving one very embarrassed, and one very amused girl in his wake. He wasn't sure where he was headed off to. He didn't particularly want to go to the library, because _she _would probably be there. He didn't want to go to the Head Common Room, because that... that just reminded him of what he could have had, if he hadn't walked away from her that night. If he hadn't left, hadn't acted like her words meant nothing to him. When in reality, they were probably the only honest emotions anyone had ever directed towards him. But if he hadn't left, what would he have said? What would he have done? He _didn't _like her. He couldn't even stand her most of the times. Just –just sometimes, he needed her. To keep him grounded, to keep him alive. To be the constant in his life. He needed her to hate him, so that he could hate back. Because that was the only emotion he could feel. True happiness was something he had forgotten how to feel years ago, and love was something he never learnt. If something bad happened, he didn't feel sad, he felt angry. And in general, he was indifferent.

So maybe it was a good thing that he had walked away. Before he said something he would regret. A lie which would completely fuck up the rest of his life worse than it already was. And hers too. Not that he'd mind. Because, even now, a part of him was doing a little victory dance, simply knowing that he, Draco Malfoy, had messed with her head in a way that no one else had. He had been the one to make _her _feel that way. She liked him. Him.

And it was that supremely fucked up part of him that wished she never got over him. Never moved on.

He was outside now –he hadn't even realised where he was heading. He walked over to the lake, ignoring the curious stares he got from students. In the distance, he spotted two figures heading towards Hagrid's hut.

_Granger._

And there was a boy, too. He couldn't make out who it was. He watched, as the boy ran towards where she was standing. Then she looked at him. He could have sworn it. He could almost feel her gaze on him, as he stared back at the two figures. He felt paralyzed to the spot. He knew he must have looked strange to passer-bys, just standing there, staring off into the distance. But he couldn't _fucking move. _He watched as they stood there for several minutes, talking, no doubt, before she stepped forward and hugged the boy. He wondered if it was out of happiness or sadness. He wondered if she was laughing, or crying. He wondered if he had lost the only true thing in his life.

Just as Draco was going to walk away, they straightened up, and after a few words were exchanged, the boy started walking away.

_Potter, _he thought contemptuously, as he watched the boy walk back towards the entrance. Of course, he should have known. Wherever there was distress, there he was, all geared up to sort out the problem. Play the hero. Save the day.

Draco wondered if he worked on people's personal problems, too. Then maybe he could sort out Draco's life for him...that was a problem, too. And of late, his best friend played a big role in it.

He looked back towards where Hermione was, and was stunned to find that she was now walking. Towards him. Slowly, as though her feet were reluctant to move, but surely enough, she was approaching. And he _still _couldn't move. She had him pinned with her gaze. He gulped. This was not good. He needed to move. Now.

He tried sending the message on to his feet.

* * *

_B.Z. _

_Draco left. Go and find Granger, make sure he doesn't go to her._

_P.P._

* * *

She couldn't help it. She had to clear this out, for once and for all. And he was right there. He knew she was coming, but he didn't seem to be moving. Maybe he wanted this, too. So she trudged on, apprehensive, but _she had to know. _Did it all mean nothing to him?

She breathed in deeply, to make up for all the oxygen she _knew _she was going to miss out on once she was around him. She always did seem to lack out on that particular gas anytime he was around her. Not that she couldn't breathe –she could. She just breathed in different things then. Like his expensive cologne. Or just him.

She was only a few yards away from him now, and she was getting closer. And closer. And closer. And –

"Hermione!"

She spun around. Blaise.

Swallowing, she managed a shaky smile.

_What on earth was I about to do?_

"Hi, Blaise," she said, clearing out her throat.

He gave her a warm smile. "Hi. I was looking for you. Someone told me I'd find you out here."

"Oh. Yes, I needed some fresh air, so I thought I'd just…" she broke off, not able to say more.

He nodded understandingly. "I understand. Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Did she? Did she want him to go, so she could talk to the boy whose eyes were currently burning holes into her back? Because she could feel it. Hot and piercing. She wondered what colour his eyes would be now. She secretly hoped they would be dark. With jealousy.

"No, of course not. Why don't we go and sit by the lake?"

"Sure. But first, I need to ask you something. Important."

Curious, she said, "Okay...what?"

"Uh –there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, right?"

Puzzled, she nodded. That's what he had wanted to ask her?

"Yeah, that's this Saturday. That's...the important thing you had to ask me?"

He chuckled. "No, silly. I wanted to ask you... do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

Her stomach was suddenly full of what seemed to be rather athletic butterflies.

"As – as friends?" she asked weakly, almost hoping his answer would be a yes.

"No. As more."

Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion. The only ones that came out intact were Draco's words.

"_Were you dreaming about me, Granger?"_

"_I'm not – playing you."_

"_What's going on with you and Blaise?"_

"_Has anyone told you that you're beautiful, lately?"_

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. He was still standing a few metres away from them. Could she do this?

"_How can you give this up for Zabini?"_

Was there anything left to give up? She exhaled and opened her eyes to find an expectant and hopeful Blaise standing in front of her. He liked her, pure and simple. She could see it in his eyes. Nothing ugly, nothing dark or sinister-or-dangerous-or-hurtful-or-sick... Draco...

"Yes."

Something flashed in his eyes. For a moment, Hermione was sure it resembled...triumph. But as he approached her, she pushed those thoughts out of her head. It had been a trick of the light. Of course. And then his lips were on hers. She forgot all about looks and thoughts and tricks. She tried desperately to forget about the blond standing a short distance away from them.

* * *

Draco looked on in horror and rage as Blaise kissed her. And she didn't fight back, not the way she fought him. Watched, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him deepen the kiss. Gave in to him.

Watched, as Blaise broke away and place kisses all along her jaw line, and down her neck, up to the point where her neck and shoulders met. Watched as he whispered something in her ear and drew her into his embrace.

Watched as Blaise looked up straight at him. As he smirked at him. Watched as slowly lifted his hand behind Hermione back, and gave him the finger.

And then all Draco saw was red.

* * *

Hermione's eyes flew open as she felt Blaise being pulled away from her.

_What the fuck?_

Blaise staggered back, holding his nose, as Draco delivered a powerful punch to it.

"What the FUCK?" he exclaimed nasally, holding his nose.

Draco didn't answer and instead, simply pulled out his wand. Hermione's brain kicked into gear.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Draco wand sailed out of his hand and landed a few feet away from Hermione. Before he could make a move to get it, she placed a Full Body-Bind curse on him, watching as he fell helplessly to the ground.

She rushed over to Blaise, face and hands covered in blood.

"Are you okay?" she inquired, siphoning away the blood with her wand, so as to get a better look at his nose.

"I dink my dose is broken," he replied, grimacing.

Hermione bit her lower lip, and looked around her, realising that at some point of time, a few students had gathered around them. She called over a sixth-year.

"You! Take Blaise, to Madam Pomfrey."

"Bud, Hermiode..."

"No buts, Blaise, you need to get that nose fixed. I'll visit you as soon as I'm done here."

Signalling for the sixth-year to leave, she turned back to the rest of the students, who seemed unwilling to leave. Putting on her best authoritative tone, she declared, "Show's over, folks. I'm sure you have some work to do!"

Slowly, they started shuffling away, some glancing back to look at the still-frozen Draco lying on the grass. Waiting until they were all gone, Hermione heaved a great sigh of relief...and trepidation. Why did _her _life have to be so complicated?

She knelt by where Draco lay. Only his eyes gave away his state of mind –and right now he was very angry.

"You know, Malfoy," she murmured, knowing that he could hear her, "if you stay so angry, I might just leave you like this until you calm down."

If possible, the look in his eyes got even more fierce. She gave a small, mirthless laugh. "Don't think I don't mean it, _Draco_. I will."

She watched as his eyes widened and he registered the use of his first name. It sounded so foreign coming from her lips, and in a way...so natural. She gave her head a mental shake and exhaled softly.

"Can I let you go now and expect you not to kill anyone? Or do we have to wait for a little longer?"

He looked at her. But this time, his eyes were devoid of any emotion. They were blank and lifeless...he almost looked dead – if it weren't for the unnatural rigidness of his structure.

"I'll take that as a yes. _Finite Incantatem,_"

He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked at her.

"Are you okay, Malfoy?"

He rolled his eyes at her words and made his way to his feet, brushing off his robes.

He started to walk away, when he heard her repeat the question.

He paused.

"What the fuck do you care?"

"I think you know why,"

She didn't see him turn around or move, but soon she felt her shoulders in his tight grasp, his eyes full of an intensity she had never seen before.

"Shut the fuck up," he whispered savagely.

"Make me," she said, unafraid and uncaring of his actions. If this was the only way to make him admit his feelings, then so be it.

He frowned at her, before his look turned contemptuous and he let go of her shoulders.

"Hmph," he gave a cold smirk, "Granger, you are a whore."

She didn't respond. She didn't slap him, hex him answer him back, or in any way acknowledge that she had even heard him.

"Did you hear me, Granger? I said you're a whore. A Slytherin whore. Look at you! You're practically gagging for it! You were just playing tonsil hockey with Zabini not more than fifteen minutes ago, and now you expect me to snog you?"

"I never asked you to snog me."

"But you want me to."

"Hardly."

"Yeah, it's written all over your –"

"Whatever, Malfoy, if it helps you sleep at night," she huffed. "What was that about?"

"What?"

"The attack on Blaise! That's what!"

"Oh, yes," he responded bitterly, "your _boyfriend. _Can I call him that now, Granger?"

She shrugged, noncommittally, taking sadistic pleasure in the flicker of pain that crossed his eyes.

"If you want. I suppose that's what he is now."

He looked at her then, and for the first time she noticed how tired he looked. Tired of it all. Like she was. He looked like she felt.

"Whatever, Granger. I'm off. Report me to whomever you like."

"It's funny, Malfoy," she commented loudly, before he could leave.

He raised an eyebrow.

"It's funny how you don't want me, but you seem to have a problem with anyone else wanting me, too."

He opened his mouth to retort, but she cut him off.

"Don't deny it, you'd just be making a fool of yourself. It's not just lust anymore, is it, Malfoy? I've accepted it, maybe you should do the same."

She walked to him, and placed a hand on his arm, feeling his biceps tense up under her touch.

"But until you do, I'll be here. With Blaise."

Stunned at her own gall, she walked off, intent on seeing how Blaise was coping up in the Hospital Wing.

* * *

**A/N: Hey you guys, hope you had a great weekend, I know I did! So, here's the next chapter, hope you like it :)**

**Well, I didn't reach the 100****th**** review mark last time, but, no worries, thanks to everyone who **_**did **_**review, you're wonderful ;)**

**OrbThesela, super, super thanks for beta-ing this chapter (shakes fists some more and does a little dance). You know, this whole fist-shaking business amuses me, lol. ;) **

**briseis72 –Lol, aww, didn't mean to keep you from your work, but I'm pretty glad anyway, that you enjoyed the story ;) **

**To all my other reviewers, I'm a little short on time, and so I can't thank each one of you separately, but THANK YOU for reviewing. **

**Do take some time to leave comments/suggestions/thoughts about this chapter. **

**Cheers**

**Rae**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:**

The news was all over the place. Somehow, less than half an hour after it happened, everyone knew. They knew a play-by-play account of what had transpired by the lake between a certain Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. But of all the events, the more shocking and more interesting one was about Blaise Zabini kissing Hermione Granger. _How? _A Pureblood and Muggleborn. A Slytherin and Gryffindor. _Granger and Zabini! _

Harry, Ron and Ginny sat in the Gryffindor Common Room, waiting for Hermione to return. Their game of chess was long forgotten. Now they needed some explanations –and some plausible ones at that.

"It can't be true," Ron muttered again, head in his hands. "She –she'd tell us about it."

Harry said nothing. Ginny sighed.

"I don't see what the big deal is. She can kiss whomever she pleases."

"Zabini is a _Slytherin_," Ron hissed venomously. "Since when does she go around kissing Slytherins?"

"Since she _grew up_!" Ginny responded heatedly. "The war is over! It's fucking _over _and you should get over it too! And in case you've forgotten, Zabini was neutral throughout the whole fucking thing!"

"It doesn't matter!" Ron all but yelled back. "He is still scum! No, listen to me…he still hates muggleborns, and he still believes in the Pureblood idealism bullshit. There is no way in _hell _he'd kiss Hermione willingly!"

"Oh, so then what? Hermione _raped_ him, did she?" Ginny shot back, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. Sometimes, she didn't understand Ron –or Harry for that matter. They never seemed to be able to move past the House significance. And it was people like them, and Draco Malfoy, who made inter-house unity difficult. That wasn't saying that Ginny agreed with everything Slytherins did, and yes, she hated quite a few of them too. But not all of them were bad. It wasn't like Hermione had been kissing Draco Malfoy. That would have been different. Monumentally so.

"No, she did not rape him! But he's up to something!" Ron exclaimed loudly.

"Yes, no doubt kissing Hermione is a sure way of becoming an invincible Dark Lord! Ron –the war is –"

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up! What the fuck would you know about the war?" Ron growled angrily at his sister, a madness lurking in the depth of his eyes.

The whole common room went silent. Ginny and Harry stared at Ron with their mouths hanging open. They had never heard him make any reference to the war, much less in a tone like that. Ron had always been the quickest to put those memories behind him, and move on. But Ginny quickly regained her composure.

"I'll tell you what I know!" she said, standing up, as he followed suit. She stabbed a finger in his chest. "Don't you fucking underestimate my participation in the Final Battle, I was there as much as you, I fought as much as you did, as much as _everyone_ did. I lost the same people you did and I suffered as much as you did. Don't you remember Tom Riddle, Ron? I fucking _know, _maybe more than you EVER WILL! But maybe I've grown up, more than you have. Maybe I've been able to put it all in the past." She breathed in deeply and moved back to where Harry was sitting in the armchair, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed down. She looked out at the whole common room.

"So Zabini kissed Hermione. And the Earth is spherical and rain falls down. Big deal. It happens. Get over it. They're two teenagers, who are perfectly able to snog _whenever _they feel like it. It doesn't matter what House he's in. And if she's making a mistake, then it's hers to make, and she should be able to find out by herself. So if _anyone_ –" she looked around menacingly at everyone, including a flabbergasted Ron, "decides to give her a hard time, they'll be on the receiving end of a very nasty hex from me."

Hermione walked into the Common Room in time to witness one of her best friends display the strongest show of loyalty till date. She realised then, how lucky she was. She remembered then, that she still had a world outside of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

"Severus, come in. Do have a seat," Dumbledore said, gesturing at the chair in front of him. "Bertie Botts'?" he asked, offering him the box.

Snape shook his head, rolling his eyes. Really, sometimes he thought that Dumbledore took it a tad bit _too far_ with the sweets. Still, he had more important issues to discuss.

"Albus, your plan is failing."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Is it, now? And what makes you say that, Severus?"

"Some students I passed by were just gossiping about seeing Ms. Granger and Blaise outside. Kissing, apparently, if my ears have not failed me."

"Blaise Zabini? Son of Lucretia?"

"The one and the same."

"Is that all?"

"Well, there was also something about Draco and Blaise getting into a fight...Blaise has just been released from the Hospital Wing –nothing serious, simply a broken nose."

"And Draco?"

"No injuries."

"Hmm," was all Dumbledore said. He looked pensive. Then, a small smile appeared on his face.

"Maybe, Severus, all is not quite as bad you think. If this is all true, then perhaps the plan is working out as it is supposed to."

"You _meant _to involve Zabini in it?" Snape asked, incredulous. This was preposterous.

"No," Dumbledore mused. "But perhaps his involvement will actually serve to hasten the process..."

"Albus," Severus shook his head warningly, "there are many lives involved. You must remember that."

"I know, Severus, I know."

* * *

Draco lay on his bed with closed eyes and tried to regulate his breathing. It was already dark outside and he hadn't bothered lighting his room. He preferred it this way. Because in the light, he could see clearly. He would see where he'd messed up, where he'd gone wrong, where he'd taken that turn that had turned _his life _into this. This great jumble of kisses and mistakes and harsh words. Of avoidance and pretence. Of love, lies and jealousy.

_Love, lies and jealousy, _he thought, smirking faintly. That sounded like something off a trashy novel. The kind he hated and thought were utterly pointless. The kind that made him wonder whether that was what literature had been reduced to –shit. Not that he was some great reader, no. But when he did read, he preferred something with more –substance.

But considering the present state of his life, he thought that maybe there was something more to said novels than met the eye. Because a Malfoy's life was, after all, anything _but _shit.

He grimaced. Who was he kidding? His life was...

But then again, he'd never thought he'd have feelings for a Muggleborn, no, a _Mudblood. _Because even though she made something in his chest ache and even thought she made him feel things and even though she _balanced _him out, she was still a Mudblood. That was never going to change. Not in his mind. Not in her blood.

But perhaps someday he wouldn't care as much. He already cared about that less than he had before.

_Oh Lucius, aren't you writhing in your grave..._

He pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the oncoming headache. He idly wondered whether he could persuade Dumbledore to let him off on a holiday during term time. Probably not. As it was, Draco was sure he was half a hair's breadth away from having his Head Boy badge revoked.

But would it even matter? Did anything matter to him anymore now, other than her?

As his mind drew a blank, Draco could feel nausea overtake him. There was nothing that mattered more to him than her. The feeling grew stronger, and his breathing passages seemed to constrict.

_No, _he thought frantically, _no, no, no, no, no..._

He sprung off his bed and ran into the bathroom, where he promptly vomited.

* * *

Ron yelled. Hermione listened. She spoke. Harry listened. Ron kept yelling. Harry kept listening. Hermione kept talking. And finally, two hours later, they emerged from the Gryffindor Common Room, worn out, but for the most part, satisfied. They made their way down to the Great Hall, where dinner was being served. Hermione noticed that Draco was not there, but Blaise was, nose completely healed. He winked at her when he caught her eye. She tentatively smiled back. Ron gagged, but wisely, held his tongue. As did the rest of the Gryffindors.

That did not, however, stop the rest of the school from talking about it. As soon as Hermione had walked in, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables had burst into whispers and Hermione had been on the receiving end of many points and stares. The Slytherins only glared. Hermione was unaffected. One did not stay friends with Harry Potter for six years and _not _get used to stares and whispers. It was unheard of.

Ginny joined them a few minutes later, squeezing in between Harry and Hermione.

"Hey there, Hermione," she chirped, reaching across the table for a jug of pumpkin juice. "Everything alright?"

Hermione smiled affectionately.

"Perfect, especially after you threatened everyone in Gryffindor with bodily harm!"

Her smile quickly fell and she pressed her lips together. "Yes, well. They deserved it. They were acting completely unfair towards you."

Hermione's smile became mirthless. If only Ginny knew...

"No, I suppose it's to be expected. In fact, I thought it would go on for much longer than this, so it didn't affect me as much," she responded, sipping some water.

"That's good, because I think you've got enough stress going on for you, without all _that _gossip."

Hermione choked.

_Did Ginny know about...?_

She coughed a few more times, and turned to Ginny, who was looking at her concernedly and patting her back.

"Erm, what stress, Gin?"

Ginny's concerned look turned to one of scepticism.

"Your head duties, Hermione. That stress," Ginny said, slowly.

Hermione could almost see the wheels in Ginny's head turn. She swallowed and gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, yes, that. Well, you know,"

Ginny gave her an odd look, but said nothing further. They completed the rest of the dinner in relative silence. At the back of her mind, Hermione wondered what had become of the Head Boy.

She was the first of the four to leave the table. She wished them goodnight, and hurried off to the Head Common Room, picking up her pace as she saw noticed Blaise getting up from the Slytherin table. Despite her earlier words, she did not really want to be with Blaise. She would later wonder what kind of a girl that made her.

Hermione did not want to be with anyone at all. Or at least, not with anyone who wanted to be with her. Because apparently, she had a masochistic side to herself, and she had to fall for boys who were too busy denying their feelings and hiding away from her. Which was stupid. But Draco was forgiven. That's how much she liked him.

She gave the password to their Common Room and walked up straight to her room. She placed her bag on the ground next to her bed, kicked her shoes off and made for the bathroom to wash her face. What she saw was one Draco Malfoy slumped over the toilet seat –retching.

Hermione's first instinct was to back away and leave, before she started throwing up too. Because this wasn't just a normal ate-something-strange kind of scenario or even a I-got-piss-drunk scenario. This was bigger, and uglier and darker, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to get pulled into it. But then again...she was Hermione Granger.

"Malfoy," she asked tentatively, as he drew in a shuddering breath. He visibly jumped and looked at her for a fraction of a second before turning away again.

"Get lost, Granger. I'm busy."

She rolled her eyes, as she fought off her own nausea. The room...the whole room smelt of –

"Right, Malfoy, I can see just _how _busy you are," she retorted scathingly. Unsure of whether to step forward, and too tempted to step back for that to even be a consideration, she stayed where she was.

"Do you –do you want some...water? Or should I call someone?"

He shook his head and resumed retching. Hermione wished she could put up a Silencing spell. The sound was really breaking into her. She darted out of the bathroom, down into the kitchenette and poured out a glass of water. She made her way back, to hear the sound of the toilet flushing and the slam of a door. And he was gone.

Hermione would have questioned the reality of the situation...if it weren't for the smell. She drank the glass of water herself.

* * *

As soon as he stepped in, all conversation in the Common Room came to an abrupt halt. He could feel stares, glares, frowns and scowls, all directed in his direction. Mentally rolling his eyes, he walked up to the vacant sofa and sprawled out on it.

Slytherins could be so petty sometimes.

Gradually, the tension in the room dissipated, but Blaise could tell the incident was neither forgotten, nor forgiven. He closed his eyes. He couldn't care less what anyone thought of him. He wasn't like Draco Malfoy, he didn't get swayed by public opinion, and he didn't live on it. He didn't have an alpha-male reputation to worry about, and neither did he want one. He didn't choose sides in the war, instead taking a very Slytherin route -saving himself a lot of trouble and pain. Blaise Zabini was his own man.

_And currently, also Hermione's, _he thought with a smirk, before he properly registered the thought. His eyes flew open and he stared at the stone ceiling above him. What the fuck?

Did he really –had he actually –was this something he took seriously? This farce with Hermione –had it stopped being just a game to him? Had some part of his subconscious decided that he actually _wanted _to be with her? Not because of Draco Malfoy's pain, or Pansy Parkinson's vengeance. But because he really wanted to.

As he mulled this over worriedly in his head, he felt someone nudging his legs aside and sitting down.

"Blaise."

He sighed.

"Yes, Pansy."

She was silent for a moment and then –

"_What the fuck did you think you were doing?" _she hissed venomously.

He rolled his eyes. "What the fuck are you going on about?"

"Oh shut it, the whole school knows about you and Granger's little display down there. And that Draco kicked the shit out of you."

He sat up so fast, Pansy almost fell off the sofa. She would have, too, if it weren't for the hand gripping her arm.

"He did _not _kick the shit out of me!"

"Ooh, issues, Zabini," Pansy mocked, even though the grip on her arm hurt like hell. He would never get the best of her.

"Shut. Up. Bitch."

"Oh, come on, for Merlin's sake, _everyone _heard about it! People _saw _it happening, Blaise. Get over it."

"It only happened because I let him!" he whispered back furiously.

She raised an eyebrow sceptically. "And why would you do that?"

He growled in frustration. Was she really that _dense_? "To show Granger, damnit! Everything I did down there, every word, every action was for fucking show!"

He wished he still believed that.

Pansy's eyes widened in comprehension and a slow smile started spreading over her face. "Oh," she said. "Well, that changes everything, then."

Blaise exhaled sharply and looked away. He was tired of this shit. Of Pansy and her mind-fucked plan. That's what had led him here in the first place. Before he saw it coming, she was kissing him. Too shocked to respond, he sat there for a second, letting her kiss him. And then he took over.

One hand slid around her waist, and the other gripped the back of her head, allowing him to control the kiss. His teeth bit down on her lower lip and as she gasped, he slid his tongue into her mouth, and began massaging her own, gently. Until all the anger, the frustration poured out of him like a dam had been broken, and the kiss turned brutal. Harsh. So unlike his style.

He pulled away. She looked at him, breathing heavily, and then placed a hand on his thigh in a suggestive manner.

"Do you –do you want to continue this elsewhere?" she asked, breathily.

He was disgusted. At her. At himself. He removed her hand from his thigh, none too gently and directed a steely glare at her.

"You are such a whore, Parkinson."

He got up and left, noting how the whole Common Room had, once again, gone completely silent.

* * *

**A/N: Yay, there was chapter 15! I'd been meaning to post it for quite a while now, but I had a terrible week, and couldn't seem to find the time :S ...But, well, it's here now!**** And it's a bit shorter, but I was suffering from terrible writer's block, and nothing seemed right with it :(**

**Thanks to OrbThesela, my wonderful beta, for pushing me into writing it, hehe. Oh, and for letting my plagiarize the name 'Lucretia' from her fic ;) And no, I don't think there's any ointment to cure B/Hr lurve, lol. **

**Last but not least, a huge thanks to all my reviewers, for whichever chapter you reviewed. At least I know **_**someone's **_**reading this story! Lol**

**To any of you who wondered why Hermione would be the first to admit her feelings –well, the way I figure it, Draco's the weaker one. He's more scared to admit things like this, not Hermione. ****And she knows that he feels the same way too, so...yeah. **

**xXxItaHinaSasuXxX –Aww, glad you liked it :) I'm a Naruto fan myself, but I'm not quite into the fanfics yet...but I hope I brought you over to HP fanfics...because there are some really, really good ones out there :) **

**dramione127 –You started an account just so you could comment? That is soo nice of you :D So this chapter's for you, then, for going through all that trouble ;) **


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

_Fuck._

Draco woke up to a world of pain. Or rather, his brain woke up to a world of pain, while his eyes stayed firmly shut –knowing that if they were to open, an additional world of pain would be added to his current amount.

What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn't drunk alcohol since the night of the Ball, so this was unexpected, to say the least. Unless he'd caught a bug of some sort. Which was highly unlikely, because he rarely fell ill.

_And what perfect timing too, _he thought sarcastically as he felt a vein throbbing in his temple as he rode out wave after wave of pain. He noted the general soreness and stiffness of his muscles as he extended an arm out to reach for his wand on the bedside table. Unable to find it, he braved opening his eyes.

Letting out a slow hiss of pain, he opened them. The pain wasn't that bad once they were open, other than the distinct feeling that someone was trying to push his eyeballs further into his eye sockets.

_The weight of the world….resting on my eyes, _he thought, with a slight smile. He turned his head a fraction, and couldn't stop the low moan that escaped his lips. It just _bloody hurt!_

Having studied at Hogwarts, having fought in the war, having had Lucius as a father, Draco was no stranger to pain –he was more than familiarised with the concept of pain. But pain that magic inflicted on his body was infinite times different from the kind of pain his own body was inflicting upon itself.

The side-effects of falling for a Mudblood, no doubt. Yes, that had to be it. A Malfoy falling for a Mudblood was unheard of, so this must be his body's retaliation. Now if only he could get that message to his heart.

He lay there for five more minutes, silently berating himself for being such a ponce.

_It's just a little pain, Draco, take it like a man. _

Lucius's words echoed in his head and he used it as a mantra. Finally, fed up of lying there, he gritted his teeth together, and in one swift motion, stood up. He found out just _how _stupid that idea was as his world spun right off its axis, providing him with only a second of skin-splitting pain before he was consumed by total darkness and he fell to floor in an unconscious heap.

That was how Hermione Granger found him, minutes later.

* * *

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, bag slung over her shoulder, her robe in hand, wondering whether she should check up on Draco.

She knew she was probably being stupid, but despite her disgust to his state the night prior, she had woken up feeling rather concerned about his health. He _had _been looking rather –off these last few days.

_But why should you care? He probably doesn't want you to, _she reminded herself, glancing at her wristwatch, which showed that she still had a good fifteen minutes left before breakfast. She fiddled and fidgeted a bit more, before letting out an irritated sigh, and marching up to his room. She knocked.

No answer.

She knocked again. Still, there was no answer.

She felt a faint sense of panic creeping up on her.

_Get a hold of yourself! _her brain admonished. He had probably left early.

Except that he hadn't and she knew. She had woken up earlier than usual, unable to sleep, and had gone straight to the bathroom, which hadn't been used since the night before. And even after she had finished, she hadn't heard the shower running, or any doors opening or shutting or...anything. Her heart started beating slightly faster than usual and she fought to not burst into his room like a deranged hippogriff. And she still didn't understand why she cares _so much, _when he obviously _didn't. _

She knocked on his door again, this time calling out too.

"Malfoy, open up."

No answer. She sighed. She had hoped it wouldn't come to this.

"_Alohomora,_" she said, wand pointed at the lock. To her surprise, the lock clicked open. She had expected more of a fight than this. Maybe he had forgotten to put up the wards last night. She turned the door knob, and slowly opened the door.

"Malfoy!" she gasped, seeing him lying on the floor. She rushed up to him, her hands flying to his face. He was burning up.

"Oh, shit," she muttered, as a small spell measured his temperature. He had a fever, no doubt about that, but for it to be this high...

Unsure of what to do, she levitated him onto the bed and turned him over, so he lay comfortably on his back. Then she ran up to the Hospital Wing.

* * *

"Madam Pomfrey!" she called out, panting, clutching a stitch at her side. By Merlin, she had become so unfit.

The school nurse bustled out of her office, looking not a little disgruntled at this loud interruption.

"Miss Granger, I expect you to show some more respect! You are in a Hospital Wing!" she admonished, eyeing the girl.

"I'm sorry Madam Pomfrey...it's just that the Head Boy..." she broke off to catch her breath, "he's ill."

"Then why isn't he here himself?" she asked suspiciously.

"He –I found him unconscious on the floor in his room. He was burning up. I didn't know what to do...I took his temperature, though..."

"How bad is it?"

"Uh...39.4˚ C."

Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened.

"Show me to your dorms."

They hurried back, though considerably slower than Hermione's arrival, and she led him to his room. She hung back as Madam Pomfrey examined him. A few spells and a lot of poking and prodding later, Madam Pomfrey motioned for Hermione to come closer.

"Well," she said, turning off the beam of light from her wand, which had been used to inspect his pupils, "there's no doubt he's come down with a flu. His temperature has skyrocketed, his reflexes are very slow, judging by his iris reactions, and I must imagine he was in a lot of pain when he awoke. No wonder he lost consciousness."

Hermione worried her lower lip as Madam Pomfrey took out a quill and parchment and proceeded to scribble something down. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was unable to find her voice. She cleared her thoughts and her throat.

"He –he'll be okay, right? I mean, it's not _that _serious is it?" she asked, ending with a nervous little laugh.

"I don't know, Miss Granger," she mumbled distractedly, still writing, "his body temperature is already too high and if it rises any further, it could prove fatal for him." She finished writing, and turned to face Hermione, who stood behind her.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, has Mr. Malfoy shown any signs of illness lately?"

"He –erm," she began, remembering the previous night, "he vomited yesterday. Last night, in fact. We didn't think it would be anything _this _serious."

Madam Pomfrey gave a nod and handed Hermione the parchment she had been writing on.

"Miss Granger, I feel it would be better if we kept Mr. Malfoy here in his room for now, that is, if you're willing to keep an eye on him, at least until his temperature stabilizes."

Hermione gulped. She knew he was sick...but all those _lessons _she'd miss...

"Of course, Madam Pomfrey, I will."

Madam Pomfrey gave her a warm smile. "Thank you, dear. Now, come with me to get those potions I've listed down on that parchment and I'll inform you of the dosage."

She got up and walked to the door, leaving a very unsure Hermione in her wake.

"And Miss Granger," she called from the doorway, an amused smile on her face. "Don't worry about your lessons. I shall speak to Albus about it."

Hermione nodded weakly and followed Madam Pomfrey back to the Hospital Wing.

Once the potions had been collected, and their dosages had been written down, Hermione walked back to the Head Boy's room, apprehensively. A feeling in her bones told her that this _wasn't _a good idea. At all. And once he opened his eyes and took one look at her face, he wouldn't appreciate any of it. She had a vague feeling that he would rather die than be taken care of by her. A small rumble in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten all morning. Now would be too late for breakfast and there was no way in hell that she would go down to the kitchens and give those house elves a hard time. Sighing, she walked into his room and placed the potions on his bedside table, carefully moving everything else from the way.

She cast the temperature-measuring charm once again, this time to find his temperature at 39.6˚.  
Shit. Madam Pomfrey had told her to try and lower his temperature, and if it went passed 40˚, he would be transferred to the Hospital Wing. Hermione decided to wake him.

"_Ennervate_"

His eyes fluttered, but didn't open. Her heart went out to him, all thoughts of missed lessons and breakfasts flying out of her mind.

"Draco?"

WHAT?

* * *

He opened his eyes the second time that day, to a pounding head. Except that this time, it felt slightly worse. He didn't open his eyes, knowing that would just add to his misery. And he felt so hot...but so _damn cold! _

And then he heard it.

"Draco?"

_Great, _he thought. _Now I'm delirious, too._

"You're delirious?"

_What the fuck? Did I just say that out loud?__ Is she really here? _His head pounded harder as his confusion grew.

"Yes," her voice answered, "you did say that out loud. And I'm not sure who you're talking about, but I'm Her –Granger."

He snorted softly. Granger.

"Granger. What are you doing here?"

"Pomfrey told me to take care of you."

"I'm fine," he bit out, annoyance adding to his already distressed state. The last person he wanted here in his weak state was _her. _He didn't want her pity, and didn't need it either.

"Yeah," she said. He could almost hear her eyes roll. "If you're so fine, then why don't you open your eyes?"

"Because I don't want to see your face?"

Silence. He heard the sound of some shuffling, and a chair being pushed.

"Fine," she finally said. The door to his room opened a second later and, contrary to what he had expected, was shut quietly.

He let out a sigh. His life was just _fucking perfect_. He slowly slipped back into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

She knew it was a bad idea. She _knew. _And yet, she _had_ to agree to it. Head Girl. So responsible. So many expectations. Skip her own breakfast to play nurse to Draco fucking Malfoy. Like he gave a fig.

She stomped into her own room, and dropped her bag on the ground, her robe following suit. She sat on her bed and kicked off her shoes, swinging her legs on the bed as soon as they were off.

She couldn't believe she fancied a _prick _like Malfoy. Even in sickness, he was insufferable. Insulting. Why couldn't he be fucking _grateful?_ But no, The Oh-So-Great Draco I-Am-Severely-Anaemic Malfoy, didn't want to _see her face. _Well, he could take his own bloody potions, then. See if she'd help. Stupid git.

The only good thing was that he hadn't noticed her slip-up.

_Draco? _She thought, slapping herself on the forehead. Where had _that _come from? They were NOT on first-name terms and would probably _never _be. One moment of weakness, and she calls him _Draco. _Had Hermione Granger really become this pathetic? Just because of a few kisses and over-active hormones? She wasn't in _love _with him, for Merlin's sake, but here she was, worrying over him, feeling for him, _thinking_ about him. And him?

"Because I don't want to see your face," Hermione mimicked to no one in particular, furious.

Like she wanted to see his ugly, pointy face anyway. And she wouldn't even bother going back to him. If he happened to pass away, well good riddance. Thank you, world, Hermione Granger has done you all a favour.

Despite all her resolutions, she did go back. It was only after screaming into a pillow twice, throwing a shoe at the door and kicking the door of her walk-in closet three times, that her anger abated. Running a hand through her dishevelled hair, she walked in through the bathroom, right into his room. As she approached his sleeping form on the bed, she took his temperature again. 39.7˚ C.

Fuck. Fuck her pride, fuck his comments, fuck it all. If she was going to do this, she would do it right, damn it! She would not let his petty comments anger her. No, she was better than that. Determined, she reoccupied the chair she had abandoned a few hours ago and picked up one of the vials and checked the dosage. It was time for his first dose already.

"Malfoy," she said, gently shaking him. "Malfoy, wake up."

She watched as his forehead creased into a small frown, and he muttered something inaudible, but he still remained sleeping. Smiling slightly, Hermione felt all her previous anger dissipate at that small action. The gesture was so innocent and child-like, it was hard to stay angry. Her fingers moved of their own accord, smoothing out his forehead, until his face was relaxed again.

"There you go," she whispered softly in his ear. "You don't always need to look irritated. And you look better like this, anyway. Now, wake up."

She felt him stir beneath her and he let out a heavy breath.

"You're back?" he croaked after a moment.

"I am."

"Why?"

"It's time for your potion, Malfoy."

"Back to my surname already, Granger?"

Shit.

Grasping for a change in topic, she asked, "Can you open your eyes, Malfoy?"

Rather than answering, he slowly opened his eyes, closing them almost immediately.

"Too bright," he muttered, face scrunched up.

Hermione waved her wand, drawing the curtains shut, leaving the room quite dark. Her hand returned to his face, smoothing out those creases on his forehead. He let out a soft sigh.

"Feels good, Granger."

The corners of her mouth turned up as she repeated the motion. "Try opening your eyes now."

He did. They were bloodshot, and even in this dim light, she could see how dilated his pupils were. She watched as his eyes flicked all over the room, before landing on her. Unsure of whether to smile or frown or to just remain expressionless, she turned her attention back to the vials on the bedside table. She picked one up and looked back at him. He looked half-dead.

"Malfoy –"

"Draco."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"My name. Draco."

She blushed. He was definitely ill. "Okay, Draco, can you sit up?"

His eyes closed. His arms slowly moved, palms resting on the bed, bent at the elbows. She watched them tremble slightly as he placed his weight on them to lift himself into a sitting position on the bed. If it weren't for the way his jaw was clenched tightly, and the tremble of his forearms, she would never have guessed the amount of pain he was in. She placed a pillow behind his back, so he felt more comfortable. When he finally assumed the position, his breathing was quicker and his face was flushed. His eyes were still shut, albeit more tightly, and his jaw was still clenched. After a few moments, he relaxed, and she surmised that the pain had subsided. His eyes opened and he looked at her wearily.

"Apparently, I can."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and poured some of the potion from the vial onto a spoon. He watched as she brought the spoon to his mouth.

"Open up, Draco. The faster you do this, the quicker it's over."

He contemplated and then opened his mouth slightly, taking in the spoon. She pulled it out again, and poured some more of the potion onto it. The procedure was repeated twice more, before she placed the stopper on the vial and balanced the spoon on top of it.

He let out a shaky sigh. He didn't feel any better, if anything, the potion had left an even more bitter taste in his mouth.

Draco looked at Granger who seemed to be studying a parchment very seriously. He stared at her until she said without looking up, "Mal –_Draco_, why are you burning two holes into my forehead?"

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, I'm checking your potion dosages. This says you need to have this one," she pointed to a murky brown potion, "after consumption of food."

She looked up at him. "So you need to eat. And I need to go and get you some food." Glancing at her wristwatch, she saw that she had enough time to get him something before the crowd came in.

"Be back," she said, as she got up and went down to the Great Hall. He didn't answer. She didn't expect him to.

* * *

"Hermione!"

Harry and Ron hurried up to where she sat, piling food onto her plate.

"Hi guys," she said, distractedly, still piling food onto her plate.

"Er –Hermione. Are you going to eat all that?" Harry asked tentatively, sitting down next to her, as Ron sat on her other side.

"No, no, of course not," she replied, now pouring pumpkin juice into a goblet.

"Then what's it for?" Ron asked, piling food onto his own plate.

"Draco."

Harry spat out his pumpkin juice, while Ron dropped the jug of pumpkin juice.

"Who?" Ron asked, ignoring the pumpkin juice that was still pouring out of the overturned jug.

"Uh, Malfoy," Hermione said, red tingeing her cheeks.

Of all the times for her tongue to slip, it had to be now! She kept thumping Harry on the back, until he stopped coughing.

"Yeah, we know, Malfoy, but since when do you call him Dr –" Harry cut himself off, making a gagging gesture.

"Yeah!" Ron piped in, food all forgotten. "Since when?"

"Since he asked me to do so in his delirium."

"WHAT?" they asked simultaneously, gaining glances from all around the table.

"He's ill, flu of some sort, Madam Pomfrey told me to stay with him for a while, until his temperature's back to normal," she answered tiredly, standing up, plate in one hand, goblet in the other.

"If I were you, I'd leave him just like that. Git," Ron declared passionately, before returning his attention to his food.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm Head Girl. Don't have that liberty. And, now, I have to go, so I'll see you guys later."

Receiving a " 'Bye Hermione" from both boys, she started her walk back up to the Head Common Room, careful not to drop anything.

"Can I help you with that?" a voice came from behind her.

Her head whipped back so fast, she almost got a crick in her neck.

"Oh, Blaise," she sighed. "Why do you keep sneaking up on me like that?"

"Slytherin trait, you know. Sneaky, and all that," he replied, taking the plate from her hand. "Wow, Hermione," he said, looking at the mountain of food, "going to eat that all by yourself?"

"No, of course, not," she replied, smiling. "It's for Malfoy."

Blaise frowned. "Why would you be bringing him food?"

She sighed and explained the whole story. His frown grew deeper. "But why you? Why didn't they move him to the Hospital Wing?"

"I live with him, Blaise," she explained, patiently. "And I'm not sure why he wasn't moved to the Hospital Wing, he just wasn't. So now I have to look after him."

Blaise exhaled sharply. "Right. So that's why you weren't in lessons today?"

Hermione nodded. "Well, here we are," she said, as they arrived at the portrait. She whispered the password, and pushed the portrait open. "Thanks for carrying this," she said, taking the plate from his hand.

"Yeah, no problem. I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Tomorrow? Tomorrow was...

"Oh. Blaise!" she called out, halting his steps. He turned around to face her. "Umm, about Hogsmeade tomorrow..."

"Yes?"

"Well, if he doesn't get better, I don't think I'll be able to make it..."

The look on his face was one of disappointment. "Of course, I understand."

She gave him a regretful smile. "I'm sorry. But maybe he will get better and we can go after all. I'll let you know tomorrow morning."

Blaise nodded and kept walking away. If Pansy heard about _this, _she'd flip.

* * *

"Granger, that's a lot of food," Draco said, eyeing the small mountain of food nervously.

She shrugged. "You can eat as much as you feel like. And I wasn't really sure what you like to eat, anyway, so..."

She placed the goblet of pumpkin juice on the bedside table and the plate of food on the chair as transfigured an extra pillow into a tray, which she set on his lap, and transferred the plate and goblet onto it.

"Well," she urged. "Don't just sit there, Mal –Draco, eat something."

Slowly, he put a spoonful into his mouth. And swallowed. Or at least tried to. Hermione watched in alarm as his face contorted in pain and he struggled to swallow everything.

"Are you alright?" she asked, concernedly.

"Shit," he muttered hoarsely, massaging his throat. "I can't swallow, it feels like –like someone's dragging their fingernails down my throat."

Hermione frowned. "But you didn't have any trouble swallowing your potion earlier."

"That potion burned my throat, I couldn't feel much –this...this fucking hurts."

"Pumpkin juice?" she offered, holding the glass out to him.

He gingerly drank some, grimacing as he did so.

"It's not as bad as the food, but it's still there."

Hermione sighed. "I'll go get Madam Pomfrey."

She hurried back up to the Hospital Wing and explained the situation to Madam Pomfrey, who immediately went to examine his throat.

"Hmm," she said, once she was done. "Throat infection. That's the root cause of this whole business. It will be painful for a few more days, but I'll give you some potions for the pain, and Miss Granger –do keep a watch on his temperature."

Hermione nodded and led the nurse out. By the time she returned, Draco had fallen asleep. Sighing for what she felt was the millionth time, she fluffed out his pillows, adjusted (with no little difficulty) him into a more comfortable position, and resumed her position on the chair next to the bed, a book in hand.

* * *

It was past dinner time when it happened. Draco had already taken his second dose of potions, had to be force-fed some food (even though it hurt Hermione to see him wince in pain every time he swallowed ) and had gone back to sleep, when she heard someone pounding at the portrait hole.

She got up to see who it was. Opening the portrait a crack, she looked outside. Pansy Parkinson. Preparing herself for an argument, she opened the portrait fully and stepped out.

"Parkinson, what are you doing here?"

"I want to see Draco." Her voice was cold and unyielding. Hermione couldn't care less.

"Sorry, no visitors allowed."

"I'm his girlfriend."

"Couldn't be less bothered. Rules are rules." Okay so this was technically a lie, but Hermione didn't care. She didn't want Pansy in there with him. Not now. Not ever. Part of her resented the fact that he'd probably rather have Pansy there, than her. She knew she was acting selfish, unreasonable, jealous and highly out of character, but she just wanted to be the one to do this for him. Just for once. She enjoyed seeing his less-guarded side, and she knew that, unlike Pansy, he would never willingly show it to her. Not unless he was in a condition like this. And so she wanted to savour it while it lasted. Gods, she sounded like such a sicko.

"Look, Mudblood, I don't care about your effing rules. MY _boyfriend _is in there, ill, and the _last _thing he needs is a filthy bitch like _you _to infect him even more. You're probably the reason he became ill, in the first place!"

Faster than Pansy could react, Hermione's wand had been whipped out and was pointing straight at Pansy. Pansy gulped, but stood her ground.

"Get the _fuck _out of here, Parkinson, before I hex that made-up face of yours into something so unrecognisable, that even your _mother _won't know you are!" Hermione snarled, positively furious. She had had enough insults from Slytherins, and she refused to be put down by an idiot of a girl who had more fingers than brain cells. There was only so much she could take, and if Pansy crossed that line, she'd regret that for a very long time.

Pansy eyed the wand nervously, and then Hermione, who seemed to radiate anger off in waves. Adopting a flippant attitude, Pansy thrust out her chin. "Fine, I'll leave. But don't think I won't be back, Granger. You can't hide him away forever. He won't let you."

With that, she walked away, leaving behind a partly satisfied Hermione. Once Pansy was out of sight, Hermione went back into the Common Room closing the portrait hole behind her. She went straight up to her room, and changed into a pair of jogging bottoms and a tank top, picked up an Arithmancy book, and went back to Draco's room.

As soon as she stepped in, she knew something was wrong. His breathing was laboured, his face was flushed and he seemed to be mumbling incoherently under his breath.

"Oh, fuck," Hermione whispered, dropping the Arithmancy book carelessly, as she took his temperature again. It was now 39.9˚ C. She knew that people could die if it went past 40 ˚C.

_Now is not the time for a panic attack, _her brain admonished, as Hermione's own breathing sped up, along with her heartbeat. She grabbed her wand and cast a Cooling charm over him, praying it would cool him down, even if temporarily, while she rushed off to find something she could use as a cold compress. Grabbing a face towel, she dampened it and rushed back to his room. His breathing was slightly less heavy, but his face was still flushed, and his hand was clenched. He was awake.

* * *

His skin was burning, he was sure of it. He could feel the heat on his body and it was becoming unbearable. He just wanted to rip his flesh off. And yet, he felt so cold. So fucking hot, yet so cold...

And it hurt, everywhere just ached. He decided right then and there, that if a choice was given between taking a Crucio or this, he'd take the Crucio any time.

His hand clenched as a wave of pain shot through him, lasting longer than any of the times before. He wondered where Hermione was, but had a gut feeling that she'd left. Finally had enough, of him and his messed up attitude, and just left. He almost didn't blame her.

"Draco?"

Relief incomparable to anything he had ever felt in his life before, rushed through him at the sound of her voice.

"Granger?" He flinched at the sound of his own voice –so scratchy and rough. So unlike him. But he knew she wouldn't care. He didn't know _how _he knew that, he just did.

"Yeah, I'm here," she replied, her voice sounding closer to him than before. He felt something cool press against his forehead and almost died at the contact. It was so cold, and yet, it felt so...good. It then made its way down his face and around his neck. Draco moaned at the loss of contact as it was removed.

"Shh," Hermione soothed him, running a hand through his hair. He quietened at the sound of her voice.

She leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Draco, I'm going to have to take your shirt off, is that okay?"

He barely processed her words, and simply responded with an "Hmm" in acquiescence. So she leaned over and proceeded to unbutton his shirt. Instead of removing it completely, she simply parted it in the middle and fought not to ogle. Now was _not _the time for the girl in her to make an appearance. Setting that firmly in her mind, she re-dampened the towel and ran it over his torso, the heat of his body quickly sucking out the moisture. She couldn't help but smile at the small groan of comfort the action elicited from him –it was good to know he felt better, albeit only a little bit. She then ran the cool compress over his arms, back around his neck and his face.

It was only after she repeated the routine several times that his face lost the extra colour, and his breathing regulated. She let out a sigh of relief as she saw his temperature had gone down, not by much, it was still too high, but at least it was better than before. She cast another Cooling charm over him and set her wand aside, hoping she wouldn't need it again that night.

She was wrong. She did need it, three more times that night, along with the cold compress, and a lot of willpower. Willpower to not break down at the sight of him shivering, or biting down on his lip when he was in pain, or reaching out for her hand when he thought she was leaving, or mumbling about snakes and bludgers in the throes of a very strange dream. It was dawn when she was finally able to get some sleep, in a very uncomfortable position, on her chair. She supposed it was better than nothing.

* * *

**A/N: Now, I think I did tell some of you that this chapter's going to make you wonder 'where the hell did that come from?' and not exactly in a good way. I know, what's an ill Draco got to do with the plot, right? I don't know, I just really, really wanted to write this at the time, and so I did. And, I suppose it would partly explain the vomiting from the previous chapter, too :S**

**Anyhoo, hope you enjoyed it, but regardless of whether you did, or didn't, leave me a review, telling me what you thought...please? :D**

**Cheers to OrbThesela (you know why, hehe) and to everyone who reviewed for this chapter. Thank you! And...I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, because my schedule's jam-packed right now, and even though all I want to do is to ignore everything else and write this story, I'm afraid I can't do that...so hope you guys are up for a (hopefully) short wait. **

**Rae**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

Hermione opened her eyes. She took a moment to register her surroundings, seeing as they were completely unfamiliar to her. Everything seemed so green…and silver. The drapes…the bed sheets… Draco Malfoy. The events of the previous day came back to her with a rush and she relaxed.

Too tired to move just yet, she stared at the ceiling for a few more seconds, before she realised… she was staring at the _ceiling_. Which meant she was lying down. On a bed. She sat up as fast as she could and looked around frantically. Draco was nowhere in sight himself. Panicked, she moved out of the bed and walked up to the bathroom door.

"Draco?" she called out, hoping to hear some sort of response. There was none. She knocked again, and when no one opened the door, she tentatively turned the doorknob and stepped in. It was empty. But someone had used the bathroom, if the wet tiles of the shower cubicle were anything to judge by.

_Where is he?_ she thought angrily, as she stepped out of him room and went down to the Common Room. He wasn't there either. Nor was he in the study, which was rarely used by him, anyway. It was more of 'her' study than 'their' study. Frustrated, very hungry, after not having eaten for a whole day, and bone-weary, she plopped down onto one of the leather cushions, rubbing her face tiredly. Last night had been a nightmare. Hell, the _whole day _had been a nightmare! But at least he hadn't died…although he had come very close to it. She had never really imagined her life with him in it, but somehow, it was harder to imagine her life without him in it. As she mulled over these thoughts, the portrait hole opened and closed, and the object of her thoughts walked in, looking larger than life and not at all like the weak, ill Draco Malfoy she had taken care of. She let out a relieved gasp.

"_Where _the hell were you?" she demanded, looking up at him angrily. "Do you know how worried I was?"

He raised an eyebrow and it was only then she noticed that he was carrying a breakfast tray. Hold on, _he_ was _carrying a breakfast tray? _Had the flu addled his brains?

"I figured you must have had a tiring night, so I got you some breakfast," he said, his voice still rather scratchy.

Hermione marched up to him, half wanting to strangle him, half wanting to hug him, and took the tray out of his hands, placing it on the coffee table.

"Malfoy, you are not well! You nearly bloody died last night, and you cannot, I repeat, _cannot _just walk around like this. You need to rest! I was so fucking worried when I woke up _on your bed _and you weren't there, I thought you might have passed out again…." She broke off, unable to continue, as her eyes filled up with tears.

Great, now she was going to cry for no reason at all. She turned away from him and tried to compose herself, failing miserably. In the end, she settled for just hastily wiping her tears away, as they fell. He was so silent behind her, that she thought he might have left. He hadn't.

"Why do you care so much, Granger?"

"I bloody well don't!" she retorted, hating the way her voice wobbled. "But if anything happened to you, _I'd _be the one blamed for it! Madam Pomfrey told me to take care of you…"

He scoffed disbelievingly behind her. "Right. And I'm sure that the fact that you, ahem, _like me, _has nothing to do with it."

Hermione whipped around, eyes glittering with tears of anger and hurt.

"That was low, Malfoy," she whispered. "Even for you."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I hate you, Granger. Nothing's too low in hate and… well, hate."

"If you hate me so much, then why place me on your bed? Why bring me breakfast?"

"Because, Granger, you had fallen face forward onto my bed and I didn't want you slobbering all over the sheets. As for the breakfast, I don't exactly need you dying right now – bad for my image, you know."

Hermione tried to hide the feelings his words inspired in her. For once, she thought that maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he didn't care for her at all. Maybe it was all lust on his part. So many uncertainties…

"What image?" she asked tonelessly, once she had regained her voice and her wits. "The one of a murderer? Don't worry, Malfoy, my death wouldn't ruin that image, simply reinforce it."

She made to walk past him, but he blocked her path.

"What the _fuck _are you talking about, Granger?" he snarled. "I've killed no one."

"That's what you say," she replied, eyes averted, voice still devoid of emotion, which was no small feat, considering the turmoil in her heart. "But we both know which side of the war you fought in, and we all know that your side didn't exactly shoot happy spells at people."

He growled, low and angry. "Fuck you, Granger. We all did what we had to do, but I didn't kill anyone. I know that as sure as I know that I'm standing here today, in front of you."

Hermione sighed. She didn't even know why she had brought up the war. It was in the past, and everyone was being encouraged to forget about it. And she knew he hadn't killed anyone. All she had wanted was to inflict some pain on him – the kind he inflicted on her on a regular basis. But all she saw was anger.

"Whatever, Malfoy," she said, side-stepping him. "Go to bed, get some rest. You need it, you haven't recovered completely, even if you feel better. And take your potions."

She could hear him informing her that she couldn't boss him around, but she ignored him and trudged up the stairs. She was tired of fighting with him. Fighting for him. Shower. That was what she needed. A nice, long shower.

Draco watched her leave, heart heavy with a mixture of annoyance and… guilt. Damn that witch! She always knew exactly which buttons to push, and he hated that. But then again, angering each other was what they excelled at. It would take more than a few kisses and declarations to change that.

He was about to take Hermione's advice and get some rest, when he heard a knock on the portrait. Sighing, and hoping that it wasn't any of her annoying friends, he went to open it.

"Malfoy," a cool voice stated.

Draco resisted the urge to slam the portrait in the unwanted visitor's face. "Zabini."

"Is Hermione here?" He asked, voice still toneless.

"She's showering." Draco made no further move to allow the other boy into the Common Room, content with having him stand outside.

"What?" Blaise put on a mock-offended expression. "Not going to invite a fellow Slytherin inside?"

Ignoring his sarcasm, Draco turned and walked back inside, a signal for Blaise to enter. He was too tired to argue with Blaise.

"Oh, look," Blaise said sneeringly, "you brought breakfast for Hermione. How touching."

Draco stopped in his tracks, one foot on the bottom stair. Fates were all against him today, they refused to let him go back up to his room. "How do you know it's for her?" he asked, wearily.

"I was down in the Great Hall with you, you moron. I saw you bring this tray up."

"Zabini, you pay so much attention to me. I had no idea you cared," Draco commented, hiding his anger behind a veil of sarcasm. He continued his ascent up the stairs, only to be stopped again by Blaise's words.

"Stay away from my witch, Malfoy. I mean it."

Surprised, Draco looked at Blaise. His face was hard, eyes cold. He _actually _meant it, the git. "I don't believe she's _yours, _Zabini," Malfoy said, coolly, still keeping his anger in check. He was feeling much better than yesterday, but he knew he was much weaker than normal, and wouldn't last in a fight. "Last I checked, she was very much her own person. And if I want to be around her, _you _won't be the one stopping me."

"Don't be too sure about that, Malfoy. Surely, you must know that Zabinis are quite famous for their –ah –possessiveness."

"No, I didn't know, actually, seeing as how I don't make it my business to know about your family."

"Well, you know now, so stay the hell away from her."

"Fuck off, Zabini. Don't tell me what to do."

"I'm not telling you what to do, I'm telling you that I won't be held responsible for what _I _do if you try getting too cosy with her."

"Zabini, you are one psycho, you know that? And what the fuck makes you think I'd want to get cosy with a Mudblood anyway? I think there's only room for one blood-traitor in Slytherin, mate, and that's you."

Not waiting to hear anymore, Draco climbed up the rest of the stairs. He really didn't have the time, patience or energy to deal with that arse today. All he wanted to do was to –

_Shit. _

At the top of the stairs stood Hermione, her wet curls hanging limply around her face, her expression betraying the hurt she felt. Only for a second though, because in the time frame that it took for him blink his eyes, the walls were up again and her face was blank.

"Granger," he whispered, swallowing, not knowing why he felt the need to explain. He knew she had heard – he didn't know how much she had heard, but he knew it had been enough.

She looked straight past him, to the wall on the far end of the room.

"Granger," he whispered again, a little more urgently this time, because her behaviour was making him nervous. "Listen to me, I didn't mean –"

"Fuck you, Malfoy, really," she said, voice deadpan, as she pushed past him, making her way downstairs. Distantly, he heard her greet Blaise cheerily, the portrait was opened and shut and he was alone. Again.

He realised then that his life was somewhat like a pendulum in motion. It could never just be good without something getting fucked up along the way. He supposed he was to blame in more ways than one, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He was almost nervous at the thought of a less fucked up life; he just wasn't used to that kind of freedom. Like a man spending the better part of his life in prison, only to be released at his life's end –lost and confused and unsure of where to begin and what to do.

His life had been messed up before Granger, and it was going to be messed up after her. Because he found comfort in keeping it that way. A semblance of normalcy for him. But these feelings –as messed up as they were –were not normal. Not one bit. They scared him, confused him and made him push them away, lock them up in a corner of his mind and pretend they didn't exist. But they did, and _she _brought them out. Hell, they were only for her, anyway. He wasn't sure when they had developed, or if they were even actually there, but at that instant in time, he could feel it. He _cared _for her. In some twisted way, he did. And maybe, maybe it was time for him to grow up and let her know. Let go of that normalcy and settle for something more –challenging. Hermione Granger.

He just hoped she was still waiting.

* * *

Hermione crept into the Common Room later that evening, thoroughly tired after her day in Hogsmeade. She and Blaise had visited almost every shop there was to visit and had ended their day with a few Butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks. Occasionally, she had spotted Harry and Ginny, walking around hand-in-hand, in a love daze, with a very disgruntled Ron following a few steps behind. She had had to look away in amusement every time. All in all, her day had been very pleasant, so much so that she had dreaded her return...that would mean facing _him _again. She didn't know how she had made it past him that morning when all she had wanted to do was just scream, cry –_anything _that would let out the hurt that she had felt. Funny, how a few words could break one's heart.

Following that thought, she absently wondered how many times she could mend her heart only to have him stamp all over it again. It had already happened more times than she could count, and yet, she kept going back for more.

_M__ore what? Humiliation? Frustration? Heart-ache? _

Because that's all he had ever offered her, and yet she kept thinking, like the fool that she was, that maybe, just maybe he wasn't completely inhumane, and he had the tiniest bit of feelings for her. Or something. Yet, she kept thinking that anyway, and for that she hated the Gryffindor in her for making her believe that there was one single vein of goodness running through Draco –the epitome of everything intrinsically Slytherin.

She noted the chill and darkness that had settled in the Common Room –the fireplace had no sign of a fire having been lit anytime earlier...or at all. Puzzled but too fatigued to care, she climbed the stairs and walked into her room, which had been kept warm thanks to her numerous warming spells. She took of her robe and folded it across a chair, and walked into the bathroom to wash her face. She was in the process of drying it, when Draco walked in from his room, wearing a light-grey t-shirt and a pair of fashionably faded jeans. After glancing in his direction once, she ignored him (which was no small feat, considering how good he looked in muggle clothes and the sheer absurdity of actually _seeing _him in something so muggle) and proceeded to brush her hair and tie it into a ponytail.

"You should leave it down. You look better that way," he commented from where he leaned against the doorjamb, just looking at her.

Hermione wasn't sure whether to be surprised or angry, but she opted for the latter. "Not that I _asked _for your opinion, Malfoy," she retorted, turning her back on him to leave the room.

"How was your day?" he asked, following her into her room, much to her aggravation. She hadn't even _invited _him inside, for Merlin's sake!

"Fine," she bit out.

"Zabini treat you well?"

She froze. "And, how does that concern you, Malfoy?" she asked, coolly.

He shrugged. "Making conversation, Granger."

Hermione sighed irritably and sat down on her bed, which had been stripped of its covers and looked more inviting now than it ever had. "Whatever. Now, if you're done, you can just leave."

"Hmm," he pretended to think about that for a moment. "No, I don't think I will."

Hermione maintained an annoyed expression on her face. "Well, not that I gave you a choice, Malfoy. So, just go."

"I said, I don't think I will."

"No. See, the thing is, that you _don't think_! Period. Because if you'd spent even one second of your time _thinking_, then I wouldn't have had to freeze my arse walking through the Common Room downstairs a few minutes ago," she said sarcastically.

He looked baffled for a minute. "What has the Common Room got to do with anything?"

"It's _cold _and _dark, _Malfoy. And if you were here all day long, then you could have at least, oh, I don't know, lit up the fireplace. With your wand!"

"In case you don't remember," he all but snarled "I was ill! I wasn't out having fun, like you and Zabini and the rest of the lot, I was in bed, fucking sweating my arse off, and trying to cool myself down!"

Hermione felt instant guilt swell up at having left him alone. He still hadn't fully recovered, she _knew _that. And she had gone anyway. Even though she had planned to stay and keep an eye on him. She had gone because she had been angry at his stupid words and she wanted to hurt him too. Pity, that while he seemed to hurt her emotionally, all she could do was cause him physical pain.

"Well," she started, putting up an indifferent tone. "Maybe if you had stayed in bed this morning, you wouldn't have been –"

"Fuck it, Granger, you were supposed to be HERE!"

"What the hell's THAT supposed to mean, Malfoy? I'm not your fucking nanny!" Her indifferent mask was shattered as both of their voices rose.

"Yeah, but I thought Pomfrey told you to –"

"Fuck what she told me, damnit! I am not your toy or your slave, or your plaything, you get that? I have a life too, I have a life _outside of you, too_!"

"And what about my life?"

"What about your life, Malfoy? I'm not a part of it, remember? You don't want to have anything to do with me, remember? You DON'T BLOODY COSY UP TO A MUDBLOOD, REMEMBER?" she yelled his own words right back at him, burning with a rage that only matched his own.

"Why do you take everything so damned personally?"

"Because –because –I don't fucking know, alright? It just hurts!"

"And what did you want me to say?" he asked, as loudly as he could, despite the pain she knew he must have been in. "What the _fuck _did you want me to tell Zabini? That I won't stay away from you? That I have these feelings – fuck! It's so messed up, and you – you just mess with my head...do you want me to tell him that? Or do you want me to tell him that most of the time, I want nothing more than to shag you senseless? Or, I don't know, do you want me to tell him that you make me feel, Granger? Do you?"

He ended on a softer tone, having taken in her shell-shocked appearance and the realisation of everything he had just said. He was more than surprised, himself, but most of all, he was tired. Tired of acting like he didn't care, when he did. He hadn't answered any of his questions, and he hadn't really expected her to. Most of them were rhetorical, anyway.

"How could you expect me to say those things to him, Granger, when I can barely say them to myself?" he asked softly, no longer angry.

"I don't know," she sighed, a moment later, still dazed by his outburst.

"That's all you have to say?" his voice betraying his incredulity and a hint of resumed anger.

"Yeah."

In two long strides, he was standing right in front of her, by the edge of her bed. He grabbed her arms and pulled her up.

"What do you mean?" he asked, the fury plain in his eyes. "Is this some sort of a sick game, Granger? To fuck with my head, because you hate me so much?"

"No," she said simply, unperturbed by his actions. She was quite used to his manhandling by now. "How is your throat?"

"Don't change the fucking topic," he growled.

She looked away from him, plastering a look of boredom on her face. She didn't know why she was acting this way –after all this time of hoping and wishing and wanting, she should have been kissing him senseless by now. But now that she had heard the words from his mouth and the initial shock had worn off, she felt...normal. Like it was the most ordinary thing to hear him tell her that he had feelings for her. She knew this was a big step for him, and she knew she was being cruel with her dismissive attitude, but she couldn't bring herself to act otherwise. She just had to let him know...how _she _had felt when he had walked away from her that night she had told him. Even if he felt it for a second, it would be enough. And then she'd put him out of his misery and tell him she felt the same way too. Reassure him.

"What do you want from me, Malfoy?" She asked, lazily moving her hands up to his, trying to pry his fingers off her arms.

He exhaled sharply and let go of her, a hand brushing through his hair, frustrated, not paying attention as his sudden action caused her to fall back onto the bed.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I just... I – I honestly don't have a clue." He turned on his heel and proceeded to walk out of her room.

Before he walked closed the door, she called out. "For what it's worth, I still have feelings for you."

_Shit. So much for tormenting him_, Hermione thought as she cursed her soft heart. But his indecision had moved her, in a strange way. She wondered whether she was normal. She didn't think she was. The door never closed. Instead, Draco strode back in and all she had time to see was a determined look on his face, before he pulled her up again, and kissed her. It was a hot, open-mouthed kiss and he groaned as he tasted her again. It had been too long, but this was still the same. Full of passion and lust, and most recently, declarations. This was still Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Enemies. But he didn't care anymore. The only difference was that this time, she wasn't fighting him. She was more than willing.

He manoeuvred them until his knees hit the back of the bed and he collapsed onto it, Hermione falling onto him. He swallowed her gasp of surprise only to elicit a moan as he nipped her lower lip. Smirking, he broke off the kiss, instead moving his lips down her neck, to the point where he felt her pulse. And what an erratic pulse at that, he noted, pleased, as he continued his ministrations at her neck, enjoying the breathy whimpers and moans Hermione gave out.

Hermione had no idea what was happening, but he hoped for it to never stop. It felt so...terrific. She moved her hands down his chest and to the hem of his t-shirt, the need to feel more of him overpowering her senses. Her hands slipped under his t-shirt and she slowly traced every curve and dip she found there, liking the way his muscles tensed under her touch, urged on by his soft groans. She blushed as she felt his arousal pressing against her thigh and hoped he was too busy to notice. It was amazing how she could even _blush _at this point, after everything they had gone through. Fed up by the lack of skin-on-skin contact and her ever-present shyness, she gave a small growl and tugged his t-shirt up. He chuckled as he saw the impatient look on her face, and once the t-shirt was flung aside, she reclaimed his mouth, winding a hand into his hair to deepen the kiss.

His hands moved up and down the sides of her torso, and he pulled out her shirt from her skirt. His hands crept up her shirt, skimming her waist and ribs and the side of her breasts before running back down again. Hermione felt little explosions go off in her head as she felt his callused hands running up and down her body. She let out another moan and arched into him because it just felt _so damn good! _She had never felt this way with any other boy before and it was hard to believe she was feeling this with _him. _It was hard to believe that she even _liked _him and that he returned those feelings.

She felt him unbutton her shirt and absently wondered whether she would have felt this way if she didn't have feelings for him. Probably not. She never had felt anything like this from just kissing Viktor or even Blaise, for that matter.

Blaise.

Hermione's eyes flew open and she broke away from his embrace, breathing heavily. He opened his eyes, confused at her sudden retreat.

"What's the matter? Were we going too fast?" he asked, his voice husky with arousal and, most probably, his throat infection.

Hermione wanted to run to the nearest desk and bang her head on it a few times. What _had_ she been thinking? She had a boyfriend now, and even if she didn't, she shouldn't have been doing this with someone who was in a recovery process!

"Erm," she started, swallowing nervously, as she moved off him, trying her best to ignore his darkened eyes, his bare torso and her proximity to the prominent bulge in his jeans. She worried that if she did acknowledge them, her resolve would break and she'd go back to snogging the life out of him. And she couldn't do that. Yet.

"You're, uh, ill, and we can't..."

"You're worried you'll get infected?"

"No!" she responded vehemently. That was one thought she hadn't even harboured, although, maybe she should have. "It's just, you need your energy and..."

"And?" he asked, prompting her to continue. He could just tell there was something on her mind. And he wasn't too sure he'd like it very much.

"Blaise."

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Hermione worried her lower lip between her teeth, as she watched him , still lying on her bed, with his eyes closed. He was breathing deeply, and for a minute she thought he might have actually fallen asleep. But then he opened his eyes and she was dismayed to see that they were, once again, emotionless.

"Right."

He got up, and retrieved his t-shirt from the floor.

"What?"

"What, what?"

"That's all you're going to say?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. I thought it was more than lust. Don't you have anything else to say?"

"Even if I did," he finally conceded, one hand on the bathroom door, "would it make a difference?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Break up with him."

Hermione gaped. "What?"

"See, I told you it wouldn't make a difference."

"It does...I'm just not sure how..."

"Simple. Tell him you have feelings for me and you can't be with him."

"I can't tell him that!"

"And why not?" Draco asked coolly, turning to observe her with cold eyes.

"I –I..."

_Why _couldn't she tell Blaise?

"Are you embarrassed of the fact that you have feelings for me?"

"No!"

"Then?"

"Why don't you tell Pansy?" Hermione asked, annoyed.

"I don't have to explain myself to her, we're not committed."

"That's not what she thinks."

"It doesn't matter to me what she thinks. As far as I'm concerned, your thoughts are the only ones that matter, and apparently, you are ashamed. But if it made you feel better, I would tell her."

Hermione couldn't believe she was hearing this from a guy who, up till two hours ago, couldn't even admit to himself that he liked her. And now he was talking about telling Pansy, which meant that the whole school would find out sooner or later.

"I am not ashamed. I'm just...not sure whether it's a good idea."

"Whatever, Granger. Just...do what you want."

He closed the bathroom door, but she stopped him at the last minute, pushing the door back.

"What about Ron and Harry? They would hate me, Malfoy."

His eyes softened slightly then. He understood that her friends meant a lot to her, even though they meant shit to him. The bigger part of him wanted to tell her to send them to hell, but he knew that he'd lose her completely if that were to happen. Because when push came to shove, her friends came first, then he followed. They weren't _that _close.

"Fine, tell Zabini he's a terrible kisser."

"What?" Hermione giggled. "That's stupid."

Draco sighed wearily. His erection was showing no signs of abating, and he really, really needed a cold shower. Badly. And she wasn't helping. "I don't know, Granger. Just do what you have to. But I'm not going to be too eager kissing you, knowing that you could have been snogging the face off Zabini somewhere."

Hermione's temper flared up. "Oh? And what about you kissing me right after shagging Pansy?"

"Shagging Pansy, Granger, not kissing her."

Hermione threw her hands up in frustration. "Fine. Fine, I'll see what I can do about Blaise. But, Malfoy," she said, looking up at him seriously. "If I do that, it means exclusivity. On your part, too."

He shrugged. He couldn't care less about other witches right now, and hadn't for a quite a while now. As long as he had the one he wanted. For as long as he wanted her.

"Fine. Now if you could please leave, I need to have a cold shower."

Hermione blushed as the meaning sunk in and she walked out of the bathroom

"And Granger," he called out, as he closed the door. "You should really button up your shirt. It's just making matters, uh, _harder _for me."

Hermione wanted to die.

* * *

**A/N: Yes...so here it is! :) ****I know that many of you have been wondering when this happens and I hope you aren't disappointed...too much...**

**Thanks to OrbThesela for her lovely beta-ing and for telling me (in a nice way) which part/s sucked, so I could change it.**

**To all my reviewers...you are all awesome. No, really, I mean it. Thank you tons for the reviews and for not pelting me with rotten eggs about the whole 'ill Draco' thing. **

**Taylor: I'm glad you like this story, but as to when 'H****ermione and draco finally just get down to it and screw each other'…I can't say. This isn't really a smut story…but…hopefully soon. Keep your fingers crossed. Who knows, I might just wake up one day, and decide to write it ;)**

**As always, thoughts, comments, suggestions, predictions are always welcome, so feel free to leave me a line (or a few lines...or a whole story!). They really do inspire me a lot...and I'm in dire need of inspiration, because, for the first time, I'm posting a chapter without having the next one prepared :S **

**Rae **


	18. Important

Hi everyone, and no, this is NOT the chapter you're waiting (hopefully) for…but I'd like you to read this anyway, since it heavily influences what will become of the story.

I'm not sure how I'm doing with the story so far, but to those of you who have been enjoying it, thank you very, very much for your reviews and everything. You guys rock! Now, down to business.

This story can be ended in another 3 -4 chapters. But I came up with an idea, which would add a twist to the tale (as though you guys haven't had enough of those already) and would inevitably make the story much longer (and possibly, more boring).

So now, I leave this choice up to you guys…do you want me to finish this up, or would you rather have me continue it? Please, leave a review with your answer, so I can start on chapter 18….your answers are very essential for me to start.

And sorry, once again, to disappoint you guys by posting my silly questions, instead of a chapter…please, bear with me :)

Rae


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

Hermione rested her hand on the doorknob, hesitant to open the door. She prayed she wouldn't see him downstairs, because she didn't know what she could possibly say to him after last night. The memory of what had happened was still too fresh, and as much as it pleased her, she was now confused. What would be the right way to act around him? Calm and collected? Should she smile? Or remain aloof? In the end, she drew in a deep breath, and opened her door. Peeking out, she made sure the coast was clear before heading downstairs.

_Gods, I feel like such a fool! _She thought to herself as she quietly walked to the stairs. She had nothing to be embarrassed about, damn it! She wasn't the one who had poured her heart out...if anything, he should be the one hiding away. Steeling herself, she walked down the stairs...no sign of him yet. That was good.

"Hey, Granger."

Hermione froze on the last step.

_Will it be too obvious if I run out of the Common Room now? _She mused to herself, as she slowly turned around to face him, an unsure smile on her face.

"Uh –hi," she responded weakly, taking in his tousled appearance. Now, this was something one didn't get to see very often...a dishevelled Draco Malfoy. The sight was quite endearing, and almost made her forget her nervousness. "I was just –uh...heading down to breakfast."

He smirked. "Were you now?" he asked, walking down the stairs, towards her. "Well, you don't have to prowl around so quietly, Granger. These are your quarters too, you know."

"Erm...you were sleeping, and I –didn't want to wake you," she stammered, her feeling of nervousness returning at his proximity. Why, _why _couldn't she keep her cool like he did?

"You never seemed to bother before." He was still smirking, as he stood directly in front of her, his arms crossed at his chest, as he observed her with amusement.

"Yeah, but you've never been ill before," she shot back, returning his look, feeling a small sense of triumph that she hadn't mucked up this answer too.

He tilted his head in acquiescence. "True. But I am feeling much better now."

"Uh, that's good to hear. I'm sure you'll be fine by tomorrow, then."

He nodded. "I'm sure I will."

She turned to leave, when he reached out and gently grabbed her elbow, turning her around. She looked up at him questioningly.

"I forgot," he said softly, pulling her closer. "Good morning."

She almost forgot how to breathe as his lips closed over hers, claiming them for a soft kiss. He didn't deepen it, and didn't even seem to want to. This wasn't a kiss of passion or lust. It was full of...something else. It scared Hermione to think what that might be.

She almost moaned as he stepped away, hating that the kiss had ended. It had been different, but much more meaningful. And she had more than enjoyed it. She opened her eyes, and found him smirking at what must have been her blissful expression. Blushing, she stepped away, mumbled an excuse about breakfast and walked off as quickly as possible, without seeming like she was running away from him.

* * *

Pansy made her way up to the Head dormitories, determined to talk to Draco today, no matter what the Mudblood said. He was _her _boyfriend, _she _should have been the one taking care of him, not that bushy-haired beaver. It was still early, she knew, and there was a chance that he might still be sleeping, but she _had _to see him.

Arriving at the portrait, she started to knock furiously. A moment later, the portrait opened, and Draco looked out at her smiling.

"Oh, Draco!" she exclaimed, flinging herself onto him, not noticing how his smile fell away, to be replaced by a frown.

"I was so worried," she said, her voice muffled as she buried her face into the crook of his neck, her arms tightening around him. He didn't return her embrace. She didn't care. She was here, with him. That was all that mattered.

"Pansy," he drawled, the annoyance obvious in his undertones, "let go of me now. This is quite embarrassing."

She let go, brushing his callous words aside, and stepped back to survey him. He looked slightly paler than usual, and he looked as though he might have lost a little weight, but other than that, there was no notable change.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked.

"Better."

"I came by to see you, you know."

"You did? I don't remember seeing you."

"The Mudblood wouldn't let me in. She said no one was allowed to see you."

Draco frowned. Hermione had said that...why? Unless she hadn't wanted Pansy to see him...Draco bit back a laugh. He made a mental note to thank Hermione later.

"Uh –yeah. Risk of infection, you know."

"Oh. Well, are you coming down to breakfast today?"

"Yeah...in a bit."

"Do you want me to wait?"

"No."

Pansy looked crestfallen. "Okay," she said. "I'll see you later, then."

He nodded, feeling depressed at the thought. Seeing Pansy once in a day was bad enough for anyone's sanity, let alone his own. Busy immersed in planning means of avoidance later, he failed to see her as she moved closer and planted a kiss on his lips.

_What the -? _Draco thought, caught completely off guard. Pansy took his lack of responsiveness as a chance to slide her tongue between his parted lips and deepen the kiss. Draco wanted to gag. As gracefully as he could he disengaged himself from the kiss, and took a few steps back, completely enraged.

"What the _fuck _do you think you're doing?" he spat out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Pansy frowned in confusion. Why was he acting like this? "Uh...kissing you."

"Who gave you the right to kiss me, Parkinson?"

"The right?" she looked at him disbelievingly. "The _right? _I am your _girlfriend, _Draco, kissing you _is my right_!"

"Girlfriend?" His look of disbelief matched her own. "Pansy, what gave you that idea?"

"You did! When you, oh I don't know, _shagged me!_"

"I _shag _ a lot of girls, Pansy, but that doesn't make them my girlfriends!"

"Yeah, but I love you, Draco!"

"What –what...!" he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. This girl was _im-fucking-possible_! "What has _that _got to do with anything? You love me. I DON'T love you. Don't you get that? Can't you fucking comprehend that, damn it?"

"Draco...we're meant to be together," Pansy said softly, refusing to believe the words, although she knew how true they were. Draco was all hers. She had to make him see that. It was for his own good. She couldn't let him fall for that common, filthy Mudblood. She had to save him from himself.

"No, Pansy, we're not. We're _not_! Understand that, you and me, are not meant to be together, not now, not ever!"

"Yes we are! Draco, I'm everything you could ever ask for in a girl!"

"_What?_" he exclaimed incredulously, not sure whether to laugh at the hilarity of her statement or to just throw her out. "Pansy, you...cannot be serious! You think you're everything I'm looking for?"

"Yes!"

"You're not! You don't have a fucking nut of what I'm looking for, you bint! If I wanted a stupid, psychopathic, possessive slut, then yes, you would fit the bill, but that is NOT what I'm looking for!"

"Oh, and Granger is?" Pansy screamed, tears streaming down her face.

"Yeah, maybe she is!" he all but roared back.

The silence that ensued was deafening. Draco wondered for a second if someone had cast a _Silencio_. He couldn't meet Pansy's gaze as she stared up at him, anger, confusion and betrayal clear in her eyes. The tears had stopped flowing, and the hurt look had been replaced by disgust. Draco, on his part, couldn't believe what he had just done. Admitting it to Hermione was one thing, but admitting it to Pansy, was another completely different story. Even though he had told Hermione he was willing to tell Pansy, he hadn't meant quite so...soon. Or so...abruptly. At least not until he had something he could hold over her to keep her quiet.

"I see," she finally said, her voice now eerily calm. "Well, I can tell you, a lot of people aren't going to be happy when they hear this."

"And who is going to tell them?" Draco asked, sneering at her, wishing he felt even one-tenth of the confidence he displayed.

"Well, I am, of course," she replied. "Just imagine, what Potty and Weasel will do to your darling _Hermione _once they find out...she'll be shunned for the rest of her life, because, face it Draco. They will never accept you. " Pansy cocked her head at him, a pensive expression on her face. "If she had to choose between you and them, Malfoy, who do you think she'd choose? She'd drop you faster than you can say 'Mudblood'."

He refused to let her words affect him. "What Potter and his friends think doesn't bother me as much as you'd be bothered if people found out that I chose a _mudblood _over you, Parkinson."

He noted with pride that he had delivered a low blow. She was already looking rather unsure. "Imagine, the great Pansy Parkinson, undermined by a lowly mudblood. The sexy Pansy Parkinson _dumped _for bookish Hermione Granger. Oh, the shame!" he said mockingly, enjoying the way her face revealed her thought process. He had pushed the right buttons. She would keep her mouth shut, if only to salvage her pride.

"If you want all of that, Parkinson, go right ahead. Tell everyone. But whereas I'll be the victim of their accusations and glares, you'll be the butt of their jokes. So go right fucking ahead."

He smirked as she scowled at him, face red with anger, and made a hasty exit. As he closed the portrait door behind her he couldn't help but remember her words.

_If she had to choose between you and them, Malfoy, who do you think she'd choose? She'd drop you faster than you can say 'Mudblood'._

Within him, he knew that was the truth. All he could do was hope that it never came to that extent.

* * *

"Hey, Hermione! Over here!" Ginny beckoned Hermione eagerly to a spot beside her. Hermione smiled and walked over.

"Hey, Gin. Didn't think you'd be up this early on a Sunday!" she said, reaching out for some toast.

"Yeah, well, couldn't sleep too well. What about you? What brings you down here so early?"

"Same. Where're Harry and Ron?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Sleeping, as usual. They are the laziest bunch I have _ever _seen! I mean, honestly..."

Hermione didn't hear the rest of what Ginny said, because at that precise moment walked in a puffy-eyed, red-faced Pansy Parkinson. A feeling of anxiousness settled low down in Hermione's stomach. This wasn't good. It wasn't good at all. Just as that thought crossed her mind, Pansy's eyes met her own, and for a second, Hermione felt apprehensive. Those were the eyes of a woman scorned. And she'd bet her life that Draco had done the scorning.

"...Hermione? Hermione!"

Ginny persistent calls forced Hermione to tear her eyes away from the sight. She looked at Ginny instead and smiled slightly.

"Hermione, is something wrong?" Ginny asked, a look of concern flitting across her face.

"No," Hermione frowned, "of course not. Why?"

"It's just that you looked miles and miles away..."

"Oh, yeah, I was just thinking..."

"About what?"

Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. If there was anyone she could talk to about Draco now, then it would be Ginny. Ginny was the most understanding of the whole lot, and maybe she'd take it easier than the rest of them.

"About...do you think it's wrong to go out with a Slytherin?"

A slow smile spread across Ginny's face. "No...I don't...Hermione, is this about Blaise? Because, you should know, we're completely okay with that."

"It's not –"

Ginny cut her off. "Okay, at first it was a bit of a shock, but you know, it could have been worse."

"Worse, how?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow, dreading the answer.

"Well, it could have been Draco Malfoy, for starters. Now, that would have been close to unforgivable."

Hermione felt her heart plummet. Ginny was the most down-to-earth and practical of the all the Gryffindors. If she found it unforgivable, then Hermione couldn't expect anything better from Ron or Harry.

"But, why?" Hermione asked, hoping to sound as offhand as possible. "I mean, he's no worse than the other Slytherins."

"Hermione, this is fucking Malfoy we're talking about. Remember your second year? Remember what he tried to pull off in your third year? Remember what he put Harry through in fourth year? Not to mention he hates your kind. You're the last person I'd expect to be sympathetic towards _him_!"

"I'm not sympathetic towards him!" Hermione responded heatedly, knowing full well that it was a lie, and hating herself for it. "It's just a question, for Merlin's sake."

"Well, I hope I've answered it. If I didn't know you better, I'd suspect something." At Hermione's downtrodden look, she added gently, "Hermione, people like Draco don't date people like you or me. Because they don't deserve us. They deserve a cell in Azkaban. Don't let him get to your soft side. He doesn't deserve that either."

With that, she stood up, brushed crumbs off her robes and walked off. Her departure coincided with the arrival of their topic of discussion. Hermione sighed as he glanced at her covertly, face not revealing anything, before seating himself at his usual spot at the Slytherin table.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, you guys! Sorry for the longer than usual wait, but I've been feeling pretty under the weather lately, so this writing this chapter took more effort than usual...and even then, it turned out to be shorter than usual :S **

**For my last entry, the question I asked...wow, your responses left me more confused than before...some wanted a longer story, some suggested an ending followed by a sequel (which isn't really possible, but thanks for the idea :D), some just wanted a quick ending and then there were those who just wanted me to get on with it and post. Who cares about the plot, right? Lol. Thank you for your input, each and every one of you. I didn't reply to most of those reviews, as I said, I haven't been feeling too good lately. But I really did appreciate it. **

**Taylor: It was mainly your last review that made me hurry up and finish writing this chapter, so yeah...here it is :)**

**Zarah: (sigh) Threatening my life won't help much if you want me to actually finish this story D**

**Okay, I know I probably haven't given you guys much to work with here, but please, do feel free to leave thoughts/comments/suggestion/a whole story(!!) , and I shall reply any queries you may have about anything :)**

**And...hmm...what am I forgetting? Oh, yes. Humongous (is that how you spell it?) thank yous to OrbThesela, who beta-ed what took me one week to write in probably less than five minutes. And no, my chapter wasn't **_**that **_**error-free, she's just **_**that **_**good ;)**


	20. Chapter 19

_But you'll just sit tight  
And watch it unwind  
It's only what you're asking for  
And you'll be just fine  
With all of your time  
It's only what you're waiting for_

_ "Everything You Want" Vertical Horizon_

**Chapter 19:**

Pansy walked into the Slytherin Common Room, eyes immediately scanning the room for the person she was searching for. She spotted him sitting in one of the armchairs situated in the corner of the room, surrounded by a few other boys and girls from their year. They were all discussing something animatedly, but he seemed to be the centre of attention.

_Pity, _Pansy thought as she made a beeline for him. That used to be Draco – popular, someone Slytherins looked up to, in either respect or fear. The constant centre of attention. But not anymore, not since he had fallen for the Mudblood. Now he was more withdrawn, snapping in annoyance at almost anyone who approached him. The Slytherins still held fear and respect for Draco… but they stayed away from him. It was funny, how Draco had practically given up his position to the one Slytherin he hated.

"Hey, Blaise," Pansy greeted, as she reached the usurper.

Blaise looked up at Pansy, annoyance ebbing away as he noticed the grim look on her face. This wasn't a good sign. Something had happened.

"Alright there, Pansy?" he asked her, appearing nonchalant.

"Yeah, yeah…uh, can I have a word with you…alone?" She asked pointedly, looking at the girl who sat closest to him.

He nodded and stood up, excusing himself from the group with an apologetic glance, and followed Pansy to a secluded spot in the room.

"Well, what is it?" he asked expectantly as she cast a _Muffliato _around them.

"I think," she answered, choosing her words carefully, "that something's happened – between Draco and _her._"

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"I went to see him this morning and we…argued. And he admitted his feelings towards her."

"Really?" Blaise asked, his interest increasing tenfold at this piece of news. "Yesterday, when I confronted him, he seemed as disinterested as ever in her, his disdain towards mudbloods seemed intact."

"Maybe, but today he was singing a completely different tune. I'm telling you, _something happened!_"

"Hmm," Blaise said, thoughtfully. "You could be right. Or maybe he just got tired of pretending and told you without meaning to."

Pansy shook her head. "No, Blaise, something's up. He seemed more…sure of himself…"

Blaise snorted. "Pansy, this is Draco Malfoy we're talking about. He's a conceited bastard…is there ever a moment where he _isn't _sure of himself?"

Pansy rolled her eyes at his statement, frustration building up at the fact that Blaise just didn't seem to understand the severity of the situation. "Blaise, this was _different_! Don't you get that? I'm telling you he was more confident…about her. It was like…I don't know…they had admitted their feelings towards each other, something that just reassured his emotions about her…and Merlin knows when that boy actually developed _emotions_! But when he talked about her, he was so…alive…and…"

Pansy turned away, quickly wiping away the tears that had begun to fall. It pained her that Hermione Granger, _Hermione fucking Granger_, could invoke such feelings in an otherwise cold, detached Draco Malfoy, and Pansy couldn't, despite all her efforts. It was painful and embarrassing.

Blaise surveyed the pitiful wreck of a girl that was Pansy Parkinson. He could tell how hard she was trying not to cry, and he felt sorry for her, even though at the moment, she wasn't exactly his favourite person, especially after the last stunt she had pulled. Draco Malfoy had no right to do this to a girl. Grudgingly, he put his arms around her and brought her in for a hug. Albeit, he didn't like her all that much, but Slytherins always took care of their own. And he was surprised that the _Prince _of Slytherin had overlooked that fact.

"Don't worry, Pans," he said softly. "I'll do something."

* * *

"Hey, Ron," Hermione smiled up warmly as Ron sat himself in the chair opposite hers. "What brings you to the library…on a Sunday, no less?"

He rolled his eyes and replied, "Harry and Ginny started on their snog-fest again, and to tell you the truth, I couldn't quite stomach the sight, so I left."

He turned greenish at the memory. "I mean, honestly!" He ranted on. "She's my _sister!_ You'd think Harry'd lay off her a bit when I'm around, you know…but they just go at it anyway, like I'm not there or something." He miserably dropped his head into his hands, as Hermione grinned in amusement.

"Ron," Hermione started, after she had successfully schooled her expression into that of an understanding one, "they're very much in love. You know Harry wouldn't hurt her intentionally. And he does respect you very much…it's just hard to – not express that love in front of you, sometimes, I guess."

"Yeah, but why couldn't they express love in other forms? Like, I don't know, sitting in opposite ends of the room and glancing at each other once in a while?" Ron asked morosely. "She's my baby sister, and it's weird, not to mention _gross, _watching them snog all the time!"

Hermione bit her lip to stop bursting into laughter. "Maybe you should get a girlfriend too," she suggested, half-playfully. But she didn't think that the idea was half-bad. Maybe…there was that slightest possibility that if Ron, Harry and Ginny were all in love with someone, then perhaps they would be more forgiving and be more…accepting of Draco. Even as the thought played itself out in her head, she knew that was the crappiest plan ever.

But Ron was grinning. "That's not a half bad idea, 'Mione," he said playfully, echoing her previous thoughts, "you wanna give it a go?"

Hermione beamed back. "I'd be glad to, Ron, but the thing is…I'm already quite committed – to this book, you know. I can't just let it go like that." She waved her book (_'Medieval Mermaids and Mysteries'_) at him to emphasize her point. "Thanks for the offer though."

Ron pouted. "Can't believe you're choosing a book over me. That just _strokes _a man's ego." Then, getting serious, he said, "Look, I know you're a big girl, and you can take care of yourself very well, and all that…but if –if he ever does anything to hurt you, Harry and I are always here for you. He _is _Slytherin after all, no matter what he says or does."

Hermione's heart started pounding. How did Ron –? "Malfoy?" she asked weakly.

Ron gave her a strange look. "No, Hermione, Zabini. And, yes well, that goes for Malfoy too, but Malfoy's a git, he's always out to hurt you, or any of us for that matter. But since you, you know, fancy Zabini and all that, I reckon he's in a better position to hurt you –emotionally, that is. I've heard emotional scars run deeper than physical ones."

_Of course, _Hermione thought, breathing easier than before. Of course, Ron would be talking about Blaise…since they were technically a couple now. And a strange one at that, considering how she was constantly making it a point to avoid him. It was strange that even Ginny, the most observant one of the whole lot, didn't seem to notice that Hermione and Blaise spent less time together than a 'couple' should. Now that Hermione thought about it, even Blaise didn't seem to seek her out as much as he used to before she'd agreed to date him. Not that Hermione minded, but still. It was odd. And no one even detected that discrepancy. With a mental shrug, she returned to her conversation with Ron.

"Thanks, Ron," she said, directing a warm smile at him. "I know you guys are here for me, and I really appreciate that."

With a nod of finality, Ron stood up, bade her farewell and left Hermione to her own thoughts. This was the second person she had talked to today who vehemently opposed Draco. Harry wouldn't be any better off, she knew, so it was probably pointless to even approach the topic with him. Maybe she'd have to keep this…_thing _between her and Draco a secret after all. And as disturbing as the thought was, she found herself quite willing to do that, if it meant an uninterrupted relationship with Draco, for as long as her bit-more-than-infatuation-bit-less-than-love emotion lasted.

The only person she _really _had to talk to was Blaise.

* * *

Blaise sought her out after lunch. She was heading outside with the girl Weasley. He sprinted to catch up to her, looping an arm around her waist and clapping a hand around her eyes. She gasped in surprise.

"Guess who?" he asked huskily, winking at Ginny, who was smirking at them.

He felt Hermione relax in his grasp. She let out a breath. "Blaise. You scared me!" she exclaimed, slapping the arm around her waist lightly.

He laughed and removed his hand from her eyes, placing it, instead, around her waist, so that he held her completely. Pulling her back against him, he buried his face in her hair.

"Hi," he said.

She wriggled uncomfortably. "Blaise," she said, "stop it. People are staring."

This was true. Several students had stopped and were staring at the couple, open-mouthed. Those who had only heard rumours of Blaise Zabini and Hermione Granger dating were now confirming it with their own eyes. Even Ginny looked slightly taken aback by Blaise's open display of affection, but recovered quickly, glaring menacingly instead, at those who openly gawked the pair. Hermione, however, would take none of it, as Blaise proceeded to try and kiss her. Not wanting to embarrass him publicly, she gave him a quick peck, but then pulled away from him, turning to face him instead.

"So, Blaise, what's gotten you so affectionate today?" she asked, a smile on her face, but anger in her eyes.

"Nothing," he answered, shrugging, choosing to overlook the unmistakable promise of a sound berating in the near future. "Just missed you, is all."

"You just saw me yesterday."

"Exactly!" Blaise exclaimed. "Yesterday! Do you know just _how _long that is?" He looked at Ginny for assistance. "Does she _know _how _long _a day is?"

Ginny grinned at him, shrugging at Hermione who glared at her.

"Well, if you two have had enough of your little drama, I'd like to have a few words alone with Blaise." She looked at Ginny, who nodded and went off outside.

"So, what's this about, Hermione?" Blaise asked, as they walked outside, slowly.

"Us," Hermione replied, looking straight ahead. Her voice was devoid of any emotion, as were her eyes.

He nodded, but didn't reply. He knew perfectly well what she was about to say. And he knew perfectly well how to counter it. They stopped once they were close to the lake. Hermione watched the giant squid raise its tentacles and wave it around, before retreating back into the water. Hermione's brow furrowed slightly.

_What the hell -? _She thought, as the giant squid repeated the action. The humorous action elevated Hermione's spirit somewhat and the intense feeling of anxiety in the pit of her stomach lightened considerably. Funny, how small things around you could make one feel so much better, if only one took the time to appreciate them. If only.

"Blaise," she started, unsure of how to proceed. She hadn't ever really broken up with anyone before, much less with boyfriend of less than one week. "I –we –it was a mistake."

Blaise schooled his features into one of confusion. He knew what she was trying to say, but refused to make it easier for her. "What was a mistake?"

"This. Us." She waved her hand between them. "I shouldn't have said yes to you the other day." She chanced a glance at him. His face was a blank mask now, like she had seen Draco's so many times.

"But you did."

"I did. And I've come to realise that maybe that was a mistake on my part. I shouldn't have."

"So...that's it?" he asked. Feigning hurt wasn't difficult for him. It actually did hurt him to hear the words. Even though he knew the whole truth, hearing it from her made it seem...worse. He had grown quite fond of her.

"I guess so." She looked at him fully then. "I'm sorry, Blaise. I shouldn't have strung you along and given you false hopes. I just thought..." She looked down at her feet, unable to continue, shame overtaking her completely.

"Of what it would do to Draco Malfoy?"

Her head snapped back up. Her eyes were widened with shock and her lips were slightly parted. She gulped visibly, and looked around, in search of a distraction. Her head was a kaleidoscope of whirring, panicked thoughts and excuses.

"I –I..."

"Don't know what I'm talking about?" Blaise supplied helpfully.

She nodded, and drew in several deep breaths, to calm herself. This wouldn't do. She had already blown her cover by acting panicky. There wasn't much that could be salvaged now.

"Oh, but I think you do, _Hermione_." Blaise purred out her name. "I think you know _exactly _what I'm talking about...do you honestly take me for that big a fool?"

She looked anywhere but at him. At this point, she envied Draco's ever-collected demeanour more than ever. "No, I don't," she finally managed to say. "But, I do think you have some muddled up facts."

"Really?" he asked, sceptically. "Pray, do correct me, then."

"I...there's nothing between me and Malfoy."

"I never said there was, _Granger_."

She noted his usage of her last name. He never had, before. It was like a splash of cold water that brought her back to her senses. She thought of everything Draco had ever said to warn her against Blaise Zabini, and all of a sudden, they made more sense than ever. She had never heard that much coldness and malice from him before. She mentally cursed herself for not having stayed away from Blaise as Draco had told her to do before. And now, she was in deeper than she had expected. "Then, what are you insinuating_, Zabini_?" she asked, removing all traces of apprehension from her features.

Blaise smirked, a cold, Slytherin smirk. "I think you know _exactly _what I'm insinuating. I know about _everything _between the two of you. There's no use in hiding it, Granger. I know."

"And, what do you plan on doing about it?" Hermione challenged.

Before Blaise could answer, someone called Hermione from a distance. They both turned. Harry. He was jogging towards them, a grin on his face. And Hermione knew was Blaise planned on doing about it. She looked at Blaise just as he looked at her, an evil glint in his eye.

"Blaise, no," Hermione whispered, horrified. She couldn't let Harry find out, not like this. Not from Blaise. It would be the end of their friendship, and that was a blow Hermione could never withstand. Blaise knew it as well as she did. "You can't..."

Blaise smiled. "Can't I?"

* * *

**A/N: ****Hi. Don't kill me. Please. **

**But...you **_**are **_**free to leave threats and/or thoughts/suggestions/comments for this chapter as a review, and I shall update as soon as possible. **

**Major thanks to my ****beta/partner-in-crime (lol), OrbThesela for...well, for beta-ing this chapter and providing you with the error-free chapters you all love so much. :D**

**nacrolyte: I love, love long reviews, so leave more :) And there's your song D**

**Camille: Lol, thanks for sticking with the story and not just giving up on it mid-way :)**

**Taylor: Thank you :D**

**Tale: Soon...but not too soon...hmm...;)**

**So, thank YOU ALL for reviewing, and I hope you'll continue to do so...(inspirational/motivational).**

**Rae **


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20:**

Hermione watched as Harry drew closer and closer to where she and Blaise were standing.

"Blaise," she pleaded again, "please don't do this. Please!"

"Why shouldn't I? You hurt me, _Hermione_!" he spat out venomously, face betraying no sign of anything other than pleasantness.

"Yes, and I'm truly sorry for that. I –I shouldn't have…I accept that…but please, don't do this!"

Blaise turned to observe her for a second. "Fine," he conceded at last. "Under one condition, though."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, ready at this point to accept any condition he set forward.

"You're going to stay with me. You're going to hurt _Malfoy _and you're going to stay _with me._"

For the umpteenth time that day, Hermione felt as though her heart would stop beating. What…_how _could Blaise ask her to do this? But there was no time to think, Harry had already reached them. He slung an arm around Hermione's shoulders casually and greeted Blaise and her. She smiled back at him weakly, as Blaise returned the greeting. She hardly noticed as Harry and Blaise exchanged pleasantries, but her ears perked up when she heard Blaise say, "Harry, it would seem that Hermione here has been keeping something from you."

Harry looked at her with a mock-glare. "Hermione, what's this I'm hearing…you're keeping things from me already? I thought we were best friends."

Hermione gave a half-hearted laugh. "Oh, Harry, ignore Blaise, you know him, always the joker!"

Blaise gave her a look. "Actually, Hermione I don't think Harry knows about you and –"

"Blaise, wait!" Hermione interrupted, bile rising up her throat as nausea overtook her. This was the hardest decision she had ever had to make in her entire life. And whatever the outcome, she knew she would not be happy. And someone else was bound to be upset, too. But who would she rather have upset at her? Harry, her best friend for the past six years? Or Draco, a boy she had hated up till a few weeks ago, and whom she still didn't have concrete feelings for?

"You and who, Hermione?" Harry asked, now looking genuinely curious.

Hermione made up her mind. "Me and uh –Blaise, Harry. I wanted to tell you that we were –erm, that is, _are _going out."

Blaise's face split into a wide grin as did Harry's. "Yeah, 'Mione," he replied, amused. "Actually, I did know about that –me and the rest of the school, I should think." He chuckled at the lost look on her face.

"Yeah," she said, dazedly. "Of course, you knew."

_What have I done? _

The rest of Harry's words were drowned by the incessant repetition of those words in her head, growing louder each instant, until they were deafening her. What had she done? She had lied to her best friend, she had _lied to someone she considered a brother. _She had lied to Harry Potter.About someone she had such intense feelings for. About someone who made her feel what no one had ever made her feel before. About Draco Malfoy. For a conniving, manipulative bastard. For Blaise Zabini. Where was her Gryffindor integrity now? Her honesty, her courage –where had they all gone now?

Hermione wanted to scream, shout, cry –anything, _anything _to relieve this building pressure in her chest. This growing guilt that was gnawing away at her insides, making her feel sick. There was a lump in her throat and Hermione was afraid to open her mouth, lest she start crying. She wished she were alone, so she could act as she pleased…but she wasn't alone…she was with Harry and that sick, sick Slytherin. She couldn't let Harry know anything was wrong. No, she wouldn't. Not yet.

Harry and Blaise were still talking, Harry had steered Hermione back towards the castle and the three of them were approaching the entrance to the castle. Hermione remained unaware of this until she felt a blast of warm air hit her. She blinked once, twice, and registered her surroundings. Shrugging off Harry's arm, she muttered an excuse about feeling tired and headed for the Head Common Room.

Blaise called out behind her, "Hermione! About...our –previous discussion. Remember not to tell anyone, else there could be…trouble."

Hermione made no indication of hearing him, and kept walking. Harry, however, gave him a quizzical look.

"An Arithmancy project," Blaise said, confidentially. "We've been paired up for it, and it has to be completely confidential until we submit it."

Harry nodded in understanding, and they resumed their talk on Quidditch.

* * *

"Anyhow, he was basically all over her…in the Great Hall, no less! No shame…" Whitney Whitehouse shook her head as she stared into the fire.

Draco didn't respond. What she was telling him made him angry, made him sick, made him…jealous. But he knew how things could get blown out of proportion in this school, and was trying not to let her words get to him.

"So, wait. What you're saying is that Blaise got off with Granger in the Great Hall for all to see?" Daphne Greengrass asked.

Whitehouse nodded. Daphne's face took on a greenish tinge. "That's some nasty shit."

Draco rolled his eyes. This conversation was really beginning to annoy him. He had come into the Slytherin Common Room in a better mood than he had been in for days, and joined the usual group of kids, who had immediately made room for him. He had been relieved to note that neither Blaise nor Pansy were amongst them. But to his greatest regret, they had started talking about this incident as soon as he had sat down, and were _still_ going on about it.

"_Everyone _saw?" Nott asked, dumbfounded.

Before Whitehouse could reply, Draco cut in. "Yes. Everyone saw. For anyone who _hasn't _gotten the gist of what happened down there, even though it has been discussed an infinite number of times, Zabini snogged the mudblood in the Great Hall for all to see. Clear? Got it? Good. Now, can we move on to something else?"

Everyone looked at him, and Daphne shrugged, before changing the topic. Draco tuned them out. He wondered whether Granger had told anyone yet. Draco knew that telling Blaise would definitely pose problems...he wouldn't take it all that well. Merlin, he wouldn't take it well at all. And Blaise was a Slytherin, he would definitely exercise some kind of revenge. Especially since he didn't like Draco one bit. But _what would he do? _Maybe, if Draco thought ahead, he could help Hermione out with whatever troubles he _knew _she was bound to face.

_Merlin, _Draco thought to himself, despondently. _I'm growing soft already, thinking about _helping _a mudblood. _

What had this world come to?

A few minutes later, he had decided he couldn't think in a room full of currently rowdy Slytherins. Whitehouse and Daphne were laughing at some (most likely, lame) joke Nott had just shared and the rest of the group were talking loudly amongst themselves. Draco stood up, brushed his robes off and excused himself from the group, before making his way up to the Head Common Room. His body worked on autopilot, while his brain still thought up possibilities. If he were in Blaise's position, what would he do that would affect Hermione the most? Hurt what Hermione valued the most. Books? Most definitely not. Draco turned the corner and made his way to the staircase that would take him to his landing. He spotted a flash of red, as a short first-year dashed past him –and then Draco knew. Of course...Blaise wouldn't hurt _what _Hermione valued the most, no. He'd go for _who _Hermione valued the most. Her best friends. Draco's chest clenched in an unfamiliar manner and Pansy's words came back to him again. He already knew what her choice would be. But the worst part was –a small part of him, no, a rather large part, hoped furiously that perhaps she hadn't chosen them over him this time. Maybe there was still hope. And Draco Malfoy knew that that was the most mundane thought ever to have been generated by his brain.

He found himself standing outside the portrait and muttered the password. He walked in as the portrait swung open, and made a beeline for his usual spot by the fireplace –which, somehow, was lit and the flames were crackling away merrily. He surmised that the house elves must have finally remembered that they were actually supposed to _work_ here. The days were growing shorter as winter approached, and although it was mid-afternoon, light was fading fast and the Common Room was rather dark, save for the light coming from the fireplace. Hence, Draco almost didn't notice the figure already occupying his spot as he made to sit down.

Draco watched her, as the light from the flames played over her face. Even in this weak, manipulative light, he could tell she wasn't happy. Upset was too light a term. She was fucking devastated. And as the realisation sunk into him, so was he. Was this it? Was this all it amounted to? Was this what all those past weeks of mental torture had led to?

Despite his continuous staring, she continued to look straight ahead, as though there was something playing out in the flames that only she could see. She didn't look at him even as he sat down next to her, close enough that their shoulders touched. Didn't even acknowledge his presence.

_Just like the good old days, _he thought to himself, feeling slightly bitter. But he didn't blame her for her choice. Not really. He resented her for it, maybe, but he didn't blame her for it. She had chosen familiarity. Familiar feelings, over unfamiliar ones. He'd have done the same. He had _tried _doing it, before he realised that it was useless. It was like an itch that, like most itches, wouldn't go away until it was scratched.

He was surprised when he felt a hesitant hand place itself gently over his own, which was on the carpet, between him and Hermione. He snuck a glance at her, but she made no indication of even registering that anything was happening. But her hand was still there, warm and soft, covering his own. Slowly, he flipped his hand over, so that their palms were now pressed together. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and felt a slight pressure in return.

So, she had realised it too.

That gave Draco new hope. He didn't know how much longer they sat there in silence, hand in hand, but the darkness around them grew, the shadows became more pronounced. And finally Hermione spoke.

"Hey." It was soft, so soft that at first Draco didn't even register it.

"Hey."

"I spoke with Blaise..."

Draco was slow to respond. And when he did, he said the last thing he had ever meant to. "Spoke? I heard that the two of you were practically shagging in the Great Hall."

His remark would have been biting, had it not been said completely monotonously, without the slightest hint of anger or sarcasm. Hermione recognised it for what it was. A means of procrastination –delaying the inevitable. She was sure that by now he had figured out the nature of her 'talk' with Blaise. And he knew.

"Something like that," she answered after a long time. "But we did talk."

"I take it that didn't go too well."

"That obvious, huh?"

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really, but I guess I'll have to tell you sometime or the other anyway. He basically offered me an ultimatum."

"One side of which I can figure out. He threatened to tell Potter and Weasley."

"Yes."

"Or?"

"Or, I stay with him, hurt you...and he keeps his mouth shut."

"Who says that would hurt me?" Draco asked, although the question in itself was moot, because it felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Several times. If he had known that 'feelings' could lead to physical pain, he would've stayed away from them. Fought them till the end. And now, it was too late.

"You wouldn't be hurt?" Hermione asked, her tone still not revealing anything.

"Of course not, Granger," he replied lightly, "why would I be? I'm not in love with you, for fuck's sake, I just want you."

Fuck. Why, _why _did he have to say _that_? He didn't even mean it. His stomach clenched, as he felt her withdrawing her hand from his.

"Of course," she responded, her voice shaky and slightly thick. "Silly me. Sorry."

He sighed.

_I'm sorry, Granger, but you know I can't say it. I feel it, but I can't say it. I don't know how to, or how you'll take it and I've never done anything like it before. I don't love you, but it still hurts like hell. _

Draco wondered how it would ever work out, if he could only say the right words in his head, and not get them out of him mouth. He sensed a change in the air, and saw Hermione preparing to get up and leave.

"Wait, don't go," he said, slight traces of panic lacing his tone.

Hermione heard it, and that told her everything she wanted to know. Everything she wanted to hear _from him. _Everything he hadn't said, but she now knew he meant. So she stayed. This time his hand sought hers out. She didn't know why, but this small gesture was more intimate than anything she had ever experienced with him. It was like a promise to a beginning. A beginning that would probably never come, not if Blaise could help it. She intertwined her fingers with his, not caring about whether they were a perfect fit or not, just that they were there. Together. In that moment. That was all that mattered.

A long while later, Draco spoke, avoiding her gaze.

"It does, you know."

Hermione didn't ask what. She didn't have to. But she couldn't help the silent tears that started falling. She had been holding them back for so long, that her throat was sore, and she was sure her eyes were red. Those four little words pained her much more than she thought was humanly possible. How could she feel so _damned much _for a guy she had hated right up till a few weeks ago? How?

Hermione breathing hadn't hitched, she wasn't shaking, she wasn't sniffling –there was no way one could tell she was even crying unless they looked at her. The tears still coursed down her face, as the pressures of the previous days overwhelmed her. Draco finally looked at her when he felt moisture on their joined hands. Part of him wanted to sneer at her for being so weak. Or, maybe she was being the strong one, crying openly –yet in a dignified manner. Maybe he was the weak, for suppressing the urge to do the very same. So he did the next best thing.

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the crook of her neck. The positioning was awkward, since they had been sitting side by side, but he didn't care about the discomfort. He just needed to be in some kind of contact with her. Minutes could have passed or even hours. He thought that he might have dozed off inhaling the scent of her shampoo, memorizing it as one would a password. Because who knew if she would ever let him do this again. Who knew if he ever would want to –knowing that she had been with Blaise.

He didn't want to let go. Although she wasn't embracing him back, she didn't seem to want him to let go either. And as much as he didn't want to move, a muscle in his side was beginning to ache from the uncomfortable position he was in. He shifted slightly, and then again. And again. Hermione sighed and withdrew herself from his arms.

He wanted to protest, but before he could, he felt her hand pushing him down, so that he now lay on his back, on the soft carpet. As Draco looked at her in bewilderment, she proceeded to lie on her side, facing him. Not saying a word, she closed her eyes, wrapped an arm around his waist, and snuggled closer, until he could feel her breaths falling on his neck. This was strange. In all his life, he had never done anything like this with a girl. Or anyone for that matter. Hermione looked all ready to sleep even though it was only –Draco quickly checked his wristwatch –six o' clock in the evening.

It was strange. But kind of perfect.

"Granger," he started gently, not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. "What exactly are you planning on doing?"

"I don't know," she replied sleepily. "I don't care."

Her grip around him tightened and, if possible, she pressed herself closer to him, and fell asleep. Draco smiled slightly, his eyes watching the movement of shadows on the ceiling. He wondered what Slytherins would say if they saw _this _happening. He could kiss his reputation goodbye.

_I don't care either._

* * *

"You know," Ron started, later than evening. "I've been seeing less and less of Hermione lately. She just never seems to be around us all that much anymore."

Ginny gave him a look. "I thought you'd seen her just this morning? You know, when she told you to get a life, and get a girlfriend and stop interrupting Harry and me all the time."

Harry snorted in amusement, and Ron glared back at Ginny, but let the comment slide. "I meant that in general, I see her less than I used to. She's always cooped up in the library or her Common Room. She wasn't even at dinner today."

Harry shrugged. "She has work to do. And you know Hermione, always the busy bee. And, it's not like she's alone all the time."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Isn't she? Who's with her, Malfoy?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, but more often than not, Zabini is."

"Oh, right," Ron muttered. "Forgot about him."

Ginny gave a small smile. "I'm sure you did."

"What?" Ron asked defensively. "I don't trust him all that much, alright? He's still Slytherin."

"Yeah...but he seems okay," Harry responded, toying with a strand of Ginny's hair. "Not a bit like Malfoy."

"I heard they don't get along too well, him and Malfoy." Ginny said, absently staring into the fire.

"Figures," Harry muttered. "Malfoy's rotten to the core. Can't imagine who _would _get along with him."

Ginny shrugged lightly, and glanced at Harry cautiously. "Hermione seems to be doing okay."

Both Harry and Ron sat up straighter. "What do you mean?" Harry demanded sharply.

Ginny didn't answer immediately. Hermione was one of her best friends, and that's why this was bothering her. Ever since their conversation earlier that morning, something had been niggling at Ginny, and she couldn't quite place what it was. Despite Hermione's protestations, Ginny was more than sure that she had been defending Malfoy. And why would Hermione do that? _Why? _Unless she harboured some sort of emotion towards him. Not to mention, her cool demeanour towards Blaise. Ginny glanced back up at the two boys who looked almost ready to kill, and debated telling them of her suspicions.

No, she finally decided. She wouldn't tell them anything, not until she had some concrete proof. Proof which she was not going to look for. Because Hermione deserved her privacy, at least.

"Nothing," Ginny finally replied. "Just that they haven't killed each other yet...you know, what with them working together and all."

Harry and Ron seemed to accept that, and their conversation soon changed onto Quidditch, before Ginny excused herself and went to bed, her thoughts still uneasy.

* * *

It was so cold. Freezing, in fact. Hermione sleepily wondered where her blankets were, but she was too tired to open her eyes and search for it. The funny thing was, her back seemed to be pressed up against something warm.

Then Hermione began to register other things. Like the arm around her waist. The breath against her cheek. The carpet beneath her. The cramps in her stomach, informing her that she hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon. The damned wind on her bare limbs. She gave an internal sigh, and slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the leather cushion. Frowning, she closed her eyes and let the memories of the previous night wash over her.

_Oh. My. God. _Hermione was mortified. She was more than glad for the fact that Draco was asleep as she felt colour flood her face. Hell, even her arms looked flushed. She almost couldn't believe she had done that! What had she been thinking?

Hermione berated herself mentally for what seemed like hours and hours, before she realised she still hadn't moved. For someone who almost hated herself for doing what she had done, she seemed to enjoy being spooned up against Draco Malfoy quite a lot. Blushing again, she made to gently pry his arm away, but his grip around her middle only tightened.

"Finally awake, are we?"

Hermione almost jumped out of her skin, but didn't turn around to face him. Not that she could, anyway, given her current position.

"Erm, yeah," she squeaked, hoping he wouldn't notice her nervousness. She wondered exactly how long _he _had been awake. Considering the sleepiness in his voice, he must have just woken up.

"You know, you made me skip dinner last night," he stated conversationally.

"I-uh...I did?" Hermione stammered out, looking for a means of escape. If he ever let go of her.

"Mm-hmm. You should be punished for that, I'd say."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Punished? Gee, Malfoy, which era do you live in again? Who uses words like 'punished' anymore?"

He gave a small chuckle, which caused his chest to rumble in an utterly delicious way.

_I need to get out of here, _Hermione thought desperately to herself, fighting off the urge to simply turn around and kiss him. She was still with Blaise. And if nothing else, Hermione was a woman of principle. Except for last night, and that didn't really count anyway. She had been traumatized.

"I do," he responded. "And I don't think I'm going to let you go anytime soon, so you might as well just close your eyes and go back to sleep."

How did he know her eyes were even open? He couldn't see her face. Hermione frowned and asked him that.

"Because," he answered, amused. "I can practically feel them scanning the room, looking for a way to get up and leave."

Apparently, a just-woken-up Draco Malfoy thought himself to be very funny. Which didn't go at all with a just-woken-up Hermione Granger, who was usually not in the best of moods then. Another reason why they could never be together. He'd be dead before the sun was up properly.

"Yes, well, we _do _have lessons, Malfoy. Which we have to attend. Regardless of whether you want to sleep or not."

Draco grumbled about her being a spoilsport and finally let go of her. She sprung to her feet immediately and fled to the bathroom. Draco sighed. He missed her warmth already.

_Merlin_, a voice in his head informed him. _You are so...whipped._

* * *

**A/N: So there you have it. A completely OOC Draco. (Sobs) **

**Just as I was falling asleep last night, the last thing I thought about was this story and how **_**very **_**unlikely it is for Draco and Hermione to fall asleep on the Common Room floor. But by then, it was already off to the beta (huge thanks to OrbThesela, who did let me know that –something- was missing in the chapter, and I agree completely, but I'm too lazy/tired to change anything now :S)**

**I hope you did enjoy this total OOC-ness of Draco, which, hopefully, will never happen, ever again in this story, lol. He's way too...soft. Do leave me a comment, telling me what you thought of this chapter :)**

**Also, I've been meaning to ask...what genre do you think this story falls under, OTHER THAN ROMANCE? Angst? Comedy? What?? I'm quite confused about it myself, so I was wondering if you guys could help me out ... :)**

**Rae**


	22. Chapter 21

**A/N: Nope, same chapter, just that it's been beta-ed now :) Thanks to OrbThesela for that!**

**And thanks to all the reviewers...I think I might have forgotten to mention that when I previously posted this chapter...but I've said it now. Thank you tons for reviewing...and a special holler to nacrolyte who started her own Dramione fic...good luck with it! :D**

* * *

**Chapter 21:**

Hermione took longer in the shower than usual. She just had to…clear her head. Think. Something which she hadn't been doing properly for far too long now. But the time had come for Hermione to re-evaluate where she stood in life, and where she wanted to take it.

Hermione prided herself on being able to define her priorities. That was, in her mind, one of her greatest achievements. She had always known exactly what she wanted out of life. Her education was number one on the list, so she studied hard, worked hard and came out on top. Then came her family. Her parents, both of whom she loved dearly. Then came her friends. Harry, Ron and Ginny –people to trust, love and keep close. Somehow, 'boys' had never made its way onto the list, neither had 'love-life' nor had 'complicated relationships'. And yet, all three were somehow occupying very high positions on the list. Draco Malfoy was very close to replacing 'friends' on her list, while 'love-life' and 'boys' were at positions five and six respectively. How did that happen? How did the bookish, know-it-all Hermione Granger, _mudblood_ extraordinaire, end up with _two _fanatically Pureblooded Slytherins on her tail? And all within a matter of three short months? And now she was being blackmailed by one.

Hermione had been through a lot of dangerous things during her time at Hogwarts, including the war –which had been traumatizing for many, but even that had been easier to let go off and not once had she ever imagined that she would find herself in a situation like this. A situation where she had to choose between her friends and her long-time nemesis turned…love interest. Or crush. Or whatever. A situation where her friendship depended on the whims of a boy she had once thought to be caring and compassionate. A fucking Slytherin.

Oh, Godric Gryffindor was rolling around in his grave. Hermione knew it. She sighed and stepped out of the shower, using her wand to unlock both the door leading to her room, and the one leading to Draco's room. The second she did, however, his door flung open, revealing a very angry Draco Malfoy.

Hermione's eyes widened in apprehension, as she realised that being faced with a very angry Slytherin while wearing only a towel was a _very_ bad idea. Lucky for her, he didn't pay much attention to her attire, and instead pointed to his wristwatch.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he asked pleasantly, his tone belying his demeanour.

"N-no," she answered, taking a step back to safety –her own room.

"Obviously not, since it's _five fucking minutes to breakfast_!"

She gulped. She had taken _that _long? "Oh...why didn't you knock?"

"Knock? _Knock? _Granger, I've been bloody _knocking _for the past ten minutes! What are you, deaf?"

Hermione's eyes widened further. He had? Had she been that deep in thought that she hadn't heard him? Or what if he was right and she had gone deaf? Maybe she should go and see Madam Pomfrey...

'GRANGER, STOP BLOODY SPACING OUT ON ME AND GET THE FUCK OUT SO I CAN TAKE A FUCKING SHOWER!"

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts, took one look at the incensed blond and hurried back into her room, muttering a quick apology. Once in her room, she quickly put on her clothes and gave her hair a quick brush, before picking up her bag and robe and heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The hallways were rather empty as she hurried down, which made her hurry even more. How late was she? This was not good. She felt a surge of guilt as she realised that she had also delayed Draco, and now he was later than she was. This, apparently, meant that he was extremely late. Breaking into a run, she made her way into the Great Hall, finding only five or six people seated their respective House tables. She noticed a sixth-year at the Gryffindor table, as well as Lavender.

"Hey Hermione," Lavender mumbled, as Hermione greeted and took a spot beside her. "Couldn't sleep either?"

"No," Hermione answered, as she buttered her toast quickly, "I actually took too long in the shower, and now I'm late for lessons. Can't think what came over me, honestly."

Lavender gave Hermione an incredulous look. "Late? Hermione, have you _seen _the time? It's barely seven! Lessons don't start for another hour, at least!"

Hermione dropped the toast in mid-bite. "What?" she asked, quickly swallowing what she had bitten off. She had forgotten to wear her wristwatch in her haste. "But Malfoy said –"

Hermione abruptly broke off. She glanced at Lavender, who was looking at her sympathetically, understanding what she had been about to say. Breathing in and out slowly in an effort to control her anger, Hermione picked up her unfinished toast and ate it. Giving Lavender a quick smile, she got up and made her way back to the Head Common Room. Draco Malfoy was a dead man.

* * *

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck__. FUCK!_

Draco repetitively cursed himself as the warm water ran over his shoulders and back. Right now, if there was one person he hated more than Harry Potter, then it was definitely himself. He couldn't believe the way he had acted last night...and this morning. Like some pathetic teenager...some lovesick fool. Some enamoured idiot, completely wrapped around a female's finger. No female had ever managed to get the best of him thus far, and now he was practically eating out of a mudblood's hand, like a wanker.

No, this had gone far enough. Draco Malfoy didn't need anyone so much in his life, that he'd consider his life to be empty without them. No one. Not even Hermione Granger. He completely ignored the fact that this was a lie, and repeated it to himself like a mantra instead. He couldn't understand his obsession with her. It wasn't love. He wasn't at a point where he'd willingly give up all he had and his life for her. He cared for her, in his own way. Mostly, he wanted to shag her. But the fact that he was willing to wait until she felt ready _had_ to mean something.

_Yeah, it means that you've got other options while you're waiting, _he reminded himself, cheering up slightly at the thought. _Like wanking, _his subconscious added. Draco knew it was true. He didn't find any appeal in any other girl right now and sleeping with them at this point would be a waste of his time, if not theirs.

This thought infuriated him to the point where he couldn't think straight. Here he was, pining for a _mudblood, _who was probably busy snogging her _boyfriend _this very second. He still couldn't believe he had shown his softer side last night. He didn't even know he _had _a softer side! He didn't want to believe he did. He chalked it down to temporary insanity and boredom. Yes, that must have been it. He slept on the Common Room floor with Hermione Granger because he had nothing better to do. Definitely.

_Fuck! _Draco angrily punched the wall, getting further annoyed when the pain did nothing for him. No release of tension. He punched it again and again. And again.

"Fuck it!" he roared angrily, when hints of blood appeared, smeared on the white tiles. He flexed his hand, noting how his knuckles were raw and bleeding, but still the pain wasn't enough. Not that Draco was into inflicted pain on himself, but at this moment, he needed some form pain to distract him from these _damned thoughts_! Damned thoughts about her, his feelings towards her...everything was about Hermione fucking Granger! And suddenly was scared that at some point, his life might be about her too. He wouldn't be able to bear that.

When he had properly woken up that morning, rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them, his senses had made a hasty re-entry. He had understood the full impact of his actions...and what they made him look like in her eyes. He had needed to reassert some authority on his life, and her, so he had made up a lie to kick her out of the Common Room. He had needed this time alone to think. Now that he had gotten it, he almost wished he hadn't. Because they all led back to one place...the spot on the Common Room floor he had vacated a few minutes ago. Where he had lain a few hours ago, with Hermione Granger curled up in his arms.

He slammed open the shower cubicle so hard, that the glass shattered. Draco looked at it, finally feeling a sense of accomplishment. He should have done that a long time ago. He was eyeing the mirror, wondering whether he ought to break that too, when the door to Hermione's room forcefully opened. He watched her watch him for a second, before she blushed severely, and clapped a hand over her eyes. Her other hand, he noted, was holding her wand. So she had finally found out about his...bending of the truth.

"Granger," he drawled, still managing to convey his anger, "if you _wanted _to see me naked, you could have just asked."

"I wouldn't want to see you naked if you were the last person on earth!" she yelled, dropping her hand for a split-second before realising that he still hadn't covered himself up. He seemed to have no problem with his state of undress. "And why can't you put a fucking towel on, at least?" she demanded.

"Uh...I don't want to?"

"Fuck you, Malfoy, and just put the bloody thing on!"

"Don't fucking tell me what to do!"

"What?" she asked, incredulously. "When have I ever done that?"

"Right now, maybe!"

"I just asked you to put on your towel...it's called decency, in case you've never heard of it!"

"Admit it, Granger, you're just a bossy bitch –"

"What?"

" –thinks she knows better than everyone else –"

"I never -!"

"-got feelings for you, it doesn't mean that you can tell me –"

"What the hell are you going on about, you crazy –"

"Crazy? I'm crazy? No, you're the crazy one if you think you can –"

"-shit like lying to me about the fucking _time _–"

"-wrap me around your little finger –"

"Malfoy, SHUT UP!"

"DON'T FUCKING TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"

Hermione dropped her hand and stared at him, making sure to keep her eyes glued to his face. "What's wrong with you?" she whispered roughly.

He ran a hand through his hair, and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his hips. It was then that Hermione noticed the glass on the floor.

"Malfoy...what did you do?" she whispered again, observing the mess in awe.

"I opened the shower cubicle a little more forcefully than I had intended to," he replied, his voice once again adopting a tone of forced pleasantness. "I'll fix it."

Hermione shook her head. "You...you're mental, you know that? Completely out of it."

Hermione's wand dropped out of her hand with a clatter, as she found herself pushed up against the wall next to her room's door, Draco's hands firmly pinning her shoulders.

"Haven't done this in a long time, have we?" Malfoy sneered quietly.

Hermione swallowed and raised her chin up defiantly. He might have been crazy, but she wasn't going to be submissive. Instead, she stared him right in the eye, daring him to do whatever he planned to. In a strange way, this was a more familiar Draco than the one she had encountered last night. He was easier to hate.

Not that she _could_ hate him right now. But still.

"No, Malfoy, we haven't. And I was hoping you had forgotten how to."

"Well, apparently I haven't, so listen up, bitch. Don't –and I mean, _don't, _judge me. Don't tell me what to do. Don't even _think _that you have any right over me. Got that?"

His use of the derogatory term made her head reel. How could she have thought –believed that he would be any different, now that he had claimed to have feelings for her? He was still the same, old nasty Slytherin she had met in first year. As she stood there, pinned up against the wall by Draco, she realised that probably the best decision she could have made was to have chosen her friends over him.

"Malfoy," she started, coolly, "let me go."

"Answer my question, Granger."

"Let. Me. Go."

"Not until you answer me."

"Answer _what_? _What?_ What do you want me to say, damnit? You're going on and on about shit I don't even understand –I never even _knew _I'd done that to you! I can't imagine myself having any right whatsoever over _you_ and you're asking to me to stop thinking that way? _When I never even started?" _Hermione let out a slightly hysterical laugh. This situation was getting out of control –her _emotions _were getting out of control. "If you feel that way, then I truly am sorry. I'm sorry that you...that you just –never got it."

With that, Hermione placed her hands on his chest and pushed him off with all the force she could muster, and ran into her room, slamming the door shut behind her as she left.

Draco broke the mirror.

* * *

"Pansy! Wait up!"

Pansy didn't bother turning as she slowed down. She knew that voice too well by now. Soon, he had caught up with her, and they resumed walking down to the dungeons.

"So, Blaise, tell me."

"It's done. I'm pretty sure whatever it is that _happened _between Malfoy and Hermione is over now."

Pansy gave him a sideways glance. "What did you do?"

Blaise smirked. "I made her an offer she couldn't refuse..."

Pansy smiled. That was all she needed to know.

* * *

_One week left until the end-of-term exams, and it's _now _that they start revising, _Hermione thought to herself, as she watched Ron and Harry pour over her notes. At least they were revising. She supposed it could have been worse. They could have not revised at all.

She looked down at her book and sighed. She had read all of this before, she _knew _everything there was to know in the book...and yet she _still _felt unprepared. Was that even normal? Hermione Granger, brightest student blah, blah...unprepared! Unsure of herself, of her abilities. Maybe it was because of the way she had been putting up with Blaise's every move this past week...like a mindless drone. Just to keep his mouth shut. Hermione Granger. The Gryffindor. Reduced to a mass of nothingness. How wonderful.

She shut her book and looked around. She had been seeking refuge in the Gryffindor Common Room this past week to avoid the two Slytherin males who had messed up her life to a point where she wasn't even sure _how _she'd be able to get it back on track again, and she had to admit. It felt good to be back in here, surrounded by the warmth, the incessant chatter (she didn't even have the heart to tell them off for it), the joviality –her friends. She had missed it so much without even realising it, and now that she had gotten it all back, she never wanted to leave. For once, she wanted to be a coward, and just hide. Hide until all her problems vanished away on the train home this winter. She, along with Harry and Ron, had chosen to remain at the castle, what with this being their last year at Hogwarts and all.

"Hey, Hermione!" Ginny chirped brightly, as she plopped down on a seat beside Hermione.

Hermione smiled and greeted her back, stretching as she set the book beside her.

"Taking a break?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah –I'm just so saturated right now. I can't really fit anything else in."

Ginny gaped. "Oh Merlin. I never thought I'd live to see the day when the _Hermione Granger _said that she was too saturated! Oh, I've got to write this down somewhere!"

Hermione laughed and gave Ginny a playful slap on the arm. "Very funny. Can't I be tired for a minute?"

Ginny smiled. "Sure you can. But usually, you're not."

_Usually, I'm not a coward, either, _Hermione thought to herself sadly. "Yeah," she responded quietly, "I guess I'm just a little low on energy these days."

"With all those meals you're missing, I don't blame you for lacking energy," Ginny retorted, not unkindly.

Hermione blushed. She had been missing meals, but she couldn't help it. The thought of food made her feel slightly nauseous nowadays. She hadn't even gone to dinner that night.

"What can I say, Gin? I'm on a mission to reach size zero by the end of this month," Hermione joked weakly.

"I can tell," came the dry reply.

They sat in silence for a while.

"So –how's the boyfriend?"

Hermione started. "W-what?"

Ginny gave her a quizzical look. "Boyfriend...you know, Blaise?"

"Oh. We...we haven't seen much of each other lately, because of all the revision. But when we have met up, erm...it's been okay."

"Just 'okay'?"

Hermione shrugged. "Just 'okay'."

"And how's Malfoy?"

Hermione looked at Ginny then, weighing her words. "Same as usual...a git if I ever saw one."

"Has he been bothering you, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, we've...kept our distance."

That wasn't completely truthful. Hermione had kept her distance. Draco had accosted her in the hallway late one evening two days ago, pulling her into a dark alcove a few steps away. She noticed he had looked tired and weary. His mask had slipped off.

"_I do get it."_

He had kissed her then, frantically, almost trying to convey a message to her. A message she didn't get, and didn't want to get. She had walked away, and struggled internally not to turn around and look back. She hadn't.

Hermione pushed that memory as far back into her mind as it would go. They were just pointless, fruitless thoughts. She had her friends. She had a 'boyfriend'. He had his mini fan-club of girls. Everyone won.

"Hermione," Ginny began quietly, "is there something you want to talk about?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's not important anymore."

She stood up slowly, picked up her books and bag, bade farewell to Harry, Ron and Ginny, and headed straight to her room. She needed to sleep.


	23. Chapter 22

**A/N: Beta-ed! Thank you OrbThesela :)**

**A huge thanks and –huggles- to all my readers and reviewers, those who have stuck with me thus far...I know this story can get exasperating at times! Hopefully, better times are up ahead ;)**

**Cheers**

* * *

**Chapter 22:**

"Albus, your plan is _failing, _I tell you," Snape said agitatedly to the man seated opposite him. "I have said this repeatedly, on numerous occasions; whatever you expected to happen is _not _happening!"

"Now, now, Severus, settle down. Chocolate Frog?"

Snape declined.

"Very well, then. Tell me, what makes you think that things aren't working out between them as I hoped?"

Snape resisted rolling his eyes. As great a wizard as Dumbledore was, in times like this it was hard to believe that he really wasn't going senile.

"Albus, they _don't get along. _It's as simple as that! They don't even conduct Prefect Meetings in accordance with each other! Forgive me, Albus, but I must wonder whether your choice for this year's Heads was ultimately a right one. They seem to work more individually rather than together."

Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You are right on that point, Severus. But, I will have to defend my decision on the matter of their appointment as Head Prefects. They are two very capable and efficient students, both influential in their own Houses. I would have chosen none other. It seems, however, that they need a slight push in the right direction…"

* * *

Blaise sat on a stone bench, which was located in a more secluded area of the Hogwarts grounds, and lazily watched the students pass by. Most of them had relieved expressions on their faces, more than glad that their exams were finally over. Which was the reason why he had scheduled a meeting with Hermione today. He waited for a few more minutes, before he saw her approaching at a distance. Even from where he sat, he could make out the morose expression on her face, which she adopted especially for his benefit, or so it seemed. Frankly, he was surprised by the lack of resistance she had put up at his behaviour. He had expected a little more fighting, a little more defiance, and instead all he had gotten was reluctant, but immediate submission. So much for Gryffindor bravery.

Maybe he had misjudged her. Maybe she wasn't as fiery as he had originally anticipated. Her current behaviour did nothing to reinforce that notion, anyway.

_Or maybe your threat just worked a bit too well, _he thought to himself, lips curving up in a smirk.

She was level with him now. She came to a halt in front of him and stood there, looking at him, not saying a word.

"Cat got your tongue, _Hermione_?" he asked, mockingly.

She rolled her eyes. "No, _Zabini_, I just don't want to waste my breath talking to the likes of _you._"

Or, she wasn't as submissive as he liked to think.

"Too bad, I'm all the company you've got for the rest of the day, so you might as well start talking."

"You might as well go fuck yourself."

"Tsk, tsk, such language…"

She made a rude hand gesture. He grinned and grabbed her hand before she could move it away and pulled her down beside him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders firmly to keep her from escaping.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" She bit out venomously, all the while keeping her face as pleasant as possible to avoid unwanted attention from the passer-bys, who still hadn't quite gotten over the fact that a Gryffindor and Slytherin were dating.

"What does it look like, love? I'm being affectionate."

Hermione grumbled under her breath, but didn't bother to respond otherwise, preferring instead to ignore him completely.

After a moment's silence, Blaise spoke again. "What are your plans for the holidays?"

"Staying here with Harry and Ron."

"Thought so," Blaise replied thoughtfully. "I won't be here myself, so I suppose I should be thankful that neither will Malfoy. Less for me to worry about…wouldn't want an unfaithful girlfriend now, would I?"

Hermione didn't react. Draco wasn't staying. Of course. She hadn't really expected him to, but somehow she was still disappointed. Although, she supposed she should have been glad for a few hassle-free weeks.

"Upset, are we?"

"Blaise, why don't you shut up?" Hermione snapped, finally too annoyed to stay quiet. "Merlin knows that three-quarters of what you say is usually complete, utter rubbish, and yet you continue to talk anyway."

Blaise's eyes narrowed. "You might want to hold your tongue around me, Granger."

"You might want to hold yours around _me, _Zabini!"

"Are you forgetting that I'm the one with the upper hand here?"

"Are you forgetting that I'm not all _that _bothered?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you?"

Hermione lifted her chin defiantly. If she had to play Slytherin, she would.

Hermione had thought it out. For the past two weeks, she had analyzed and contemplated and weighed all her options. Not that she had too many of those, but she could work with the ones she had. There was no doubt about it, she wanted Draco. More than just physically. She didn't know _how _deep the feeling ran, but if it was enough to make her lie to her best friends, then it was definitely important enough to not disregard. Harry, Ron and Ginny were _her _best friends. They would take her word over Blaise's any day. She was sure of that. Hermione was tired of being blackmailed. It was time to turn the tables. She was a _Gryffindor _and she refused to be manipulated by anyone. And if she had to use Slytherin methods, then she would.

"No, I'm not."

"So you wouldn't care if I just went up to Potter right now and told him about you and Malfoy?"

Hermione wasn't scared anymore. If she played her cards right, Blaise's blackmail would end and Harry wouldn't find out a thing.

"Not one bit. And do you know why?" she asked sweetly.

"Why would I take away the pleasure you're undoubtedly going to have in telling me, by knowing your plans beforehand?" he countered, just as sweetly.

Hermione smirked. "Well, because they won't believe you."

Blaise resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This girl was way too gullible. "So, Granger, you're telling me that you're not worried because you think that they won't believe me?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, Blaise, I _know _that they won't believe you," she responded emphatically. "Because when we get down to it, you're still a Slytherin and we're still Gryffindors. No matter how close we get, we'll _never _trust you. All I've got to tell Harry and Ron is that you're sore because I've broken up with you, and that's that. It'll be your word against mine. Want to try it?"

Hermione didn't feel as confident as she sounded, and she hoped fervently that he wouldn't call her bluff. It wouldn't make any difference whether or not he told them, because she would do exactly as she had said, but she wanted them to hear it from her own mouth. She wanted to tell them...when the time was right. And that was not now.

Blaise gave her a calculating look. What she said did have some sound reasoning behind it. Her word would be put before his, especially if he was made out to look like a rejected ex-boyfriend. He cursed inwardly. It seemed like his game was up. That girl was more Slytherin than he had accounted for, obviously. But he couldn't...no, _wouldn't _go without a fight. Whether his word would be believed or not, the seeds of doubt would be sown. That would be enough.

"Sure. Where is Potter? Might as well have a heart-to-heart with him right now."

Hermione face remained impassive. She refused to show her slight agitation at his words.

"I don't know. Why don't you find him yourself?"

With that, she shrugged off his arm, and headed towards the Head Common Room. She walked briskly, to get away from the boy she had left seated on the stone bench and also to get away from the cold. She wished she had been wearing something warmer than just her school uniform and robes, but somehow the thought had slipped her mind. Of course, she hadn't really been planning on visiting the grounds, and had only gotten Blaise's message half-way through lunch from an apprehensive-looking second-year Slytherin.

Finally entering the Great Hall, she made her way around the milling students and walked over to the staircase when she heard her name being called. It was Ron.

"Hey, Ron," she said, smiling pleasantly, forcing all thoughts of Blaise from her mind.

"Hey," he greeted her back. "Uh, Dumbledore wants to see you...and _Ferret-face _in his office as soon as possible."

Hermione frowned. Had he heard about her and Draco's uncooperativeness in Prefect meetings? She hoped not. And, anyhow, that was soon about to change. She thanked Ron and asked him whether he had passed on the message to Draco as well.

He rolled his eyes. "As if I'd ever talk to that git. But, no, I haven't seen him around anyway. Thank Merlin for small mercies."

Hermione suppressed a small smile. "Okay, well, I'll see if I can find him. Oh, and Ron," she added. "I need to talk to you and Harry tonight. Can we meet up in the Gryffindor Common Room after dinner?"

Ron gave her a puzzled look but nodded. Hermione smiled and made her way up the stairs, her heart pounding slightly at the thought of the nature of the talk she was about to have with them that night. She only hoped that Blaise wouldn't mess it all up, before she had a chance to talk to them.

Climbing up the last flight of stairs, she turned right, heading towards the portrait of Barnabus the Brilliant. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted a pretty sixth-year Ravenclaw emerge from what was, undoubtedly, their Common Room, a pleased expression on her face. As she noticed Hermione, she flashed a sweet smile, and continued on her way.

Great. Just, fucking awesome. Just as she was on her way to sorting her life out, making some room for _him _in it, he had to go and shag some other chick. She didn't even know _why _she bothered. Calming herself as much as she could, she muttered the password and stepped inside. Draco, from the sounds she could hear, was in the kitchenette. She dropped her bag onto the carpet, kicked off her shoes and sank into the cushion closest to her

"Malfoy," she called out, a little more angrily than she had intended.

The shuffling in the kitchenette stopped.

"What?" came the reply, his voice monotone.

"Hurry up, Dumbledore wants to meet with us right now."

He walked out, shirtless and seemingly oblivious to the slight chill permeating through the common room. Hermione's face contorted into a slight frown as she observed his state of semi-undress bemusedly. Three guesses for what _he _had been up to. After a moment, he cleared his throat, indicating that she had been staring for a bit _too _long now, regardless of whether she was ogling him or cursing him. Her face flushed and she looked away.

"Why?" he asked, an eyebrow raised, choosing to ignore her embarrassment, for which she was grateful.

She shrugged, still not looking his way. "Ron just told me that he asked to see both of us, now. So why don't you go and put on a t-shirt or something, I'll just wait for you here."

He gave her a look, but didn't say much more, opting instead to do as she suggested. He was acting strangely. She knew it was because of the way she had avoided him for the past fortnight, but he couldn't really blame her. He had been way out of line. And his 'apology' didn't do much to remedy the situation. But here she was, willing to put it all aside, and turn things around a bit, and all for what? To find him shagging other girls. She closed her eyes to fight back the hot, angry tears that threatened to spill. She refused to cry over him yet _again_. It was getting to be a bothersome affair.

Finally, she heard his footsteps on the stairs and she opened her eyes, but didn't look his way. Instead, she slipped on her shoes and said, "Let's go."

They walked out of their Common Room in silence, neither having much to say to each other, both upset and angry for their own reasons. Misunderstandings. They crossed the Great Hall as quickly as possible, Hermione walking a few steps ahead of Draco so as to not seem too suspicious. As it was, the sight of the Head Girl and Head Boy walking _anywhere _together was a rare one. They began down a secluded corridor which led to the gargoyles protecting the staircase to Dumbledore's office.

"What do you think the old coot wants us for?"

Hermione started. The silence between them had been so thick that she had almost forgotten he was there. Almost. Except for the sound of his footsteps and the feeling she usually got in the pit of her stomach whenever she was around him and the smell of whatever expensive cologne he was wearing today. Other than those _insignificant _reminders, she had completely pushed him out of her mind. And now she was marginally surprised that he had chosen to break the silence between them. It was quite unlike him to put his pride aside in favour of conversation, with _her, _nonetheless.

"I don't really know," she answered. "I hope we aren't in trouble, though."

He snorted. "What are the chances of _you, _best friend of Potty and champion of all things good, getting in trouble with that Muggle-loving fool?"

Hermione bristled at his cold, sneering tone. She hadn't heard _that _in a while. At least, not with so much feel in the words. Like he meant to hurt her.

Which he did. Because currently, Draco Malfoy was not a happy boy. And it was all because of the girl who was walking a few steps ahead of him. Apologising was not something that came naturally to Draco. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had uttered the words, "I'm sorry," to anyone, if ever. But he knew that his behaviour towards Hermione that day had been out of line, too much so. She had every right to be angry at him. He had tried, for two whole days, to figure out _how _he would bring himself to apologise, and when he had finally gotten the chance, he had shown her he was sorry, rather than saying the words. He had shown her the only way he knew how, and he knew that she knew. Maybe the apology hadn't been what she had expected, or what she had hoped for, but it had been the best he could give her, without feeling like he had cheated himself somehow. Because that was Draco Malfoy. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't a good guy people could turn to, to rescue their cat from the tree. He wasn't every girl's dream boyfriend, unless said girl was a masochist. He wasn't a Romeo, and he wasn't a sappy fool. He was who he was. Draco Malfoy. And that was the only thing he could hold on to, he could say belonged to him, and only him. He couldn't, no, _wouldn't _change himself. If Hermione couldn't accept him the way he was, then his hands would be washed from this affair. Compromising his own self was not something he was willing to do, not even for her.

Yet, it angered him to think that she _couldn't _accept him for who he was. That _still_, she remained deluded by her Gryffindor-ness. Her foolish notions that he could be saved...or worse –that he _needed _to be saved from the hate that consumed him and inevitable bachelorhood that, in her eyes, awaited him. He didn't. He hadn't changed like she had hoped, and that was what angered her. Which in turn fuelled his own anger. Who was she to change him? He had feelings for her, yes, but that didn't give her complete reign over his life. He wouldn't do an about turn just because she wanted him to. He wouldn't grovel at her feet, or beg for her forgiveness. He wouldn't say "I'm sorry." But he had _shown _her his remorse. He had expressed his feelings to her. He had put himself as far out there as he possible could have. And she had snubbed him.

So immersed was Draco in his thoughts, that not only did he fail to hear Hermione's scathing reply, but also didn't notice that they were currently standing in front of the two ugly gargoyles flanking the entrance to the staircase.

"Password?" one of them asked.

"Skittles," Hermione replied.

The spiral staircase came into view as the gargoyles opened the entrance to them. Hermione walked off briskly, every step conveying her intense annoyance at Draco's mere presence. Draco rolled his eyes at her back and followed silently.

_Women. _

Reaching Dumbledore's office, Hermione raised her hand and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

She opened the door and walked in, Draco following suit. Dumbledore motioned to two the two armchairs in front of his desk and they sat.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Hermione said.

_Suck-up, much? _Draco thought, refraining from rolling his eyes again.

Dumbledore returned the greeting to both Hermione and Draco and offered them a piece of chocolate. Hermione accepted, while Draco declined. How old did Dumbledore think they were? Five?

Before Dumbledore could procrastinate further, Draco cut in. "So, Professor, to what do we owe this, uh –pleasure?"

Hermione looked affronted, while Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Ah, right down to business, Mr. Malfoy? Very well, the reason I have summoned the two of you here today is concerning the matter of the Winter Ball."

At their blank faces, he asked, "You do _remember _about the Winter Ball, don't you?"

Slowly, they both shook their heads. "Professor," Hermione said tentatively, racking her brain to remember any mention the staff may have made about a Winter Ball. "Umm, we don't really have time to throw a Winter Ball. Most of the students leave next week."

Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. "Not to worry, should the rest of the Prefects agree to hold the Winter Ball, then arrangements shall be made to take the students home a few days later."

Draco and Hermione nodded again, numbly. Another ball. Great. The previous one hadn't gone well for either of them, and now there was _another _one. The chances of the Prefects rejecting the idea was zero to none. Everyone loved a party.

They went over various points with the Headmaster and by the time they were released, two hours had gone by. Hermione and Draco got up, bade the Headmaster farewell, and were about to step out of the door when Dumbledore's voice stopped them.

"And one final thing. You two are expected to attend the ball together...a show of inter-house unity would not be amiss at such an occasion."

Hermione stopped so quickly, that Draco bumped into her with an "Oof!"

She didn't want to turn around, she didn't want to face either of the males standing behind her. So she didn't.

"Erm, that –that will be fine, Professor," she answered. "Good evening."

She walked out quickly, uncaring of whether or not Draco was following. She didn't care. She didn't want to go with Draco Malfoy –well, she did, but she wanted to go because he'd asked her to go, not because it was an obligation. Now she would probably just be an obstacle for him. A barrier between him and Merlin-know-who, probably that Ravenclaw witch he'd been with earlier.

Hating the situation even more, she broke into a jog, ignoring Draco's call behind her. She was in no mood to listen to his complaints and taunts now. She just needed to get away.

Unfortunately for her, Draco wasn't about to let her go. He sprinted after her, until he caught her arm and spun her around. She looked upset. He was, if possible, angrier than before. Was he _that _bad that she couldn't even attend the ball with him?

Oh, of course. Blaise.

He dropped her arm. He didn't even know what to say to her.

"Ruined your plans with Zabini, didn't I, Granger?"

She looked at him, as though she was deliberating something. Then she spoke. "No, not really. We broke up."

She turned on her heel and started walking again, leaving a dumbfounded Draco in her wake. They had –broken up? When? Why hadn't she mentioned it before? He spurred into action and caught up to her again.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did."

"I meant, before?"

"It just happened this afternoon. And besides, I didn't think you'd care, what with that new Ravenclaw witch and all."

"Ravenclaw witch?" Draco asked, perplexed.

"Yeah, you know, the one you shagged this afternoon?"

"What?" he asked incredulously.

He held her arm and turned her around to face him again. Now she looked angry and a little...jealous? Draco smirked. So _that's _why she had been angry at him.

"Are we a little jealous, then?" he asked, when she didn't answer. He was still smirking.

That touched a nerve

"What? How DARE you think I'd be jealous over YOU?"

"That's the impression you're giving off to me right now."

"Well, obviously you have no idea what you're talking about!"

"I think I do."

"I don't care what you think, anyway."

"Well, to answer your previous question, I do care about you breaking up with Blaise."

"It wasn't a question. More of a statement."

"But it was still a question."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled her arm away, proceeding to walk away again.

"Granger," he said to her retreating form. "I'm not shagging her. I'm tutoring her. Charms."

She stopped walking. "Charms?" she asked, thickly. "Or something else?"

He walked up to her, and slid and arm around her waist, pulling her close. He hadn't done this in a while. It felt good.

"Charms," he assured her, whispering into her hair. He felt her relax in his hold. The corridor was empty, which was a good thing. Anyone catching them in a position like this would mean hell to pay.

"You're such a liar, Malfoy," she whispered, with no real conviction behind her words. So he didn't take it to heart.

"Yeah," he whispered back. "But not to you."

He turned her head slightly, gave her a soft, teasing kiss, and sauntered off, leaving behind an indignant, but amused Hermione.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23:**

"What do you mean, it's over?" Pansy asked angrily, eyes flashing.

Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. "Just what you think it means. Game's up. It's over."

"_How can it just be over?_" came her hissing response.

To say that Pansy was angry was an understatement. She was so much more than just 'angry'. That word simply didn't do her current feelings justice...it was a word too weak in the face of her true emotions. She was even past 'seething'. Precious few had ever seen the forever-chirpy, if somewhat bubble-headed Pansy Parkinson _this _out of control. Secretly, Blaise was proud of the fact that he was one of the few to see this side of her. She was actually a bit frightening.

"Well, Granger decided that she just didn't care whether I told Potter and Weasley about her affair with Malfoy."

"What?" Pansy shrieked. "_That _was your great plan to keep them apart? To threaten her with telling her two moronic best friends?"

"Hey, I never said it was a 'great' plan."

"Whatever, Blaise, just...Merlin you are so incompetent!"

Blaise's eyes narrowed into slits. Now, she was crossing the line. "Pansy, if I were you, I'd refrain from saying things like that."

"Or _what, _Blaise? You're going to come up with some half-arsed plan to make _me _pay?"

"Half-arsed plans? _Half-arsed plans? _That's rich, coming from _you_!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"A half-arsed plan is the one you had to try and split Malfoy and Granger up!"

"No, it was a good plan! I just made the mistake of getting an _arse _to play out the role! It was a simple job, Blaise. Keep Granger away from Draco. You couldn't even accomplish _that _feat! You're pathetic!"

"You want to talk about pathetic, Pansy? Pathetic is you, chasing after a guy who _clearly _doesn't want you, trying to sabotage his possible relationship with a Mudblood and _still _failing! You can't even keep a boyfriend; maybe you should take some time to think what that means. It doesn't say much for you now, does it? A Mudblood, besting you, taking away your boyfriend, and you can't do shit. Now _that _is pathetic."

Tears of anger, frustration and humiliation blurring her vision, Pansy stepped towards Blaise and raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist and shoved her away from him, hard enough so she stumbled a few steps and her back hit against the wall.

"Don't ever try that on me," he hissed out, fury etched into every syllable. "I've never hit a female before, Pansy, don't tempt me to start now."

Turning on his heel, he stalked off, leaving behind a crying Pansy leaning against the cold, stone wall. Both of them remained unaware of the figure that stood a few feet away, shrouded in the shadows, their exchange of words rendering him as immobile as though he had been hit with a _Petrificus Totalis._

* * *

Hermione stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room. If the big banner (_'LET'S PARTY!)_ on one end of the room didn't give Hermione a hint of what was going on, then the copious amounts of Butterbeer and Merlin-knew-what other alcoholic beverages that were being passed around the room would have been a definite give-away. Amidst the ruckus and in slight disbelief (_A party, before dinner? Honestly!)_ she scanned the room for her best friends. She finally spotted them sitting by the fireplace. Weaving her way around the semi-inebriated students and fending off offers of Butterbeers and other potentially dangerous looking substances, she made her way to them. A cold feeling of dread settled low in her abdomen as she registered the troubled looks on Harry, Ron and Ginny's faces.

"Hey guys," she greeted, drawing them out of their reverie. "What's going on?"

Even before Harry spoke, Hermione knew what was wrong. Blaise had called her bluff.

"Hermione, is everything alright between you and Zabini?"

Hermione swallowed nervously. "Well, erm, other than the fact that I broke up with him, yeah."

"You –er –broke up with him? When?" Ron asked, curiously.

"This afternoon. It just wasn't working out between us."

"Oh."

Suddenly, the atmosphere lightened considerably, although Ginny still didn't look convinced. Harry and Ron beamed at Hermione and Harry started to explain.

"It's good to hear that, because Zabini said something very appalling, not to mention –bizarre, to us a little while ago."

"W-what did he say?" Hermione asked.

"Something about you and Malfoy going out behind our backs, or something equally crappy," Ron replied dismissively. "But obviously, it was just the fallen pride talking. You and Malfoy…" Ron snorted humorously, cutting himself off.

Hermione gave a weak smile. "Yeah," she muttered, not meeting their eyes, opting instead to look outside the window. The first few flakes of snow were starting to fall and Hermione had the sudden urge to return to those times when her major source of worry was whether the snowman that she and her father built looked proportional enough or not.

_Being an adult sucks, _Hermione thought, in a fleeting moment of childish petulance. Harry and Ron were now back in good spirits, having an animated discussion about upcoming Quidditch matches, while Ginny continued to remain silent. It was this that set a horde of butterflies fluttering in Hermione's stomach. Ginny wasn't convinced.

"Hermione," she said after a while. "Mind taking a walk with me? I have to talk to you about something."

Hermione stalled, looking to Harry and Ron for a way out, but neither offered any means of escape. So Hermione nodded reluctantly, and got up, following Ginny out of the portrait hole.

"What is it, Ginny?" Hermione finally asked, once they were a reasonable distance from the Common Room. Although, Hermione found it to be quite a waste of energy, she already knew what was bothering Ginny.

"I think you know, Hermione."

Hermione sighed. "Is it about what Blaise said?"

"Yes. Is it true?"

Hermione was silent for a long while. "Yes. Well, not really. Sort of."

Ginny stopped in her tracks. She turned to Hermione with a look of utmost fury. "_Why?_" she hissed, under her breath.

Hermione recoiled slightly at the intensity of her friend's gaze. "I –I don't know," she replied honestly. "I don't even know if there's anything worth fighting for there."

"Yes, but why _him, _Hermione? Have you forgotten? He nearly got you expelled in your first year, and remember Tom Riddle's diary in _my _first year? What about when he almost got Buckbeak executed and Hagrid sacked? Why _him_?"

"I know! I know, alright? He's been horrible to us, more than horrible. Cruel, even. Especially to me, because of my lineage. So if I'm standing here today, admitting that I have feelings for him, then you must realise that it's not a matter to be taken lightly. It's a serious issue. I don't know why it's him, all I know is that this..._feeling _just won't go away! I don't know how he makes me feel like this, he just does! And I can't help it!"

Ginny's eyes were shimmering with what may have been tears, which made Hermione's own eyes water up. This was difficult for Ginny to accept, she knew that. Ginny had suffered more because of that family than Hermione, or even Ron and Harry, for that matter. But Hermione had been completely honest with her, and despite Ginny's less than favourable, but expected, reaction, she felt as though a burden had been lifted off her chest. She felt lighter because she was lying to one person less.

The next words to come out of Ginny's mouth caught Hermione off guard.

"Does he feel the same way about you?" she asked, fairly calmly.

Hermione lowered her gaze and shrugged.

"What does that mean?" Ginny asked sharply.

"I don't know. Sometimes I think he does. Sometimes I think it may be just lust. I don't know."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Since the beginning of the term, I suppose. I'm not quite sure when this happened. It's so...blurry."

"Is he the reason why you rejected Ron?"

"What?" Hermione looked affronted. "No! Of course not! I rejected Ron because I didn't feel for him in that way!

"But Malfoy _was _on your mind?" Ginny persisted, starting to sound angry again.

"He's almost always on my mind nowadays," Hermione admitted quietly. It hurt to say it, hurt to acknowledge just _how _deep into this affair she had been pulled, hurt to know that it was probably all one-sided.

"Hermione," Ginny sighed, "I don't know what to say...what to think. I've never seen you act this way before. I would have been happy for you, had it been _anyone_ other than Malfoy. But it's Malfoy. And I don't know how I can ever accept this."

Hermione looked down and bit her lip, fighting to keep her tears at bay.

"Are you going to tell Harry and Ron?" Ginny asked in a gentler voice, noticing Hermione's apparent distress.

"N-not now," Hermione swallowed, the lump in her throat becoming unbearably painful.

Ginny sighed again, but nodded. Maybe it would all go away. She wished it would go away, for Hermione's sake. But for some reason, with the way Hermione spoke about it, Ginny could tell that it wouldn't be going anywhere for quite some time.

"Well, I think I'll...just go...take a walk. Clear my head a bit."

Hermione nodded again. "Are –are we still friends?"

Ginny observed the older girl for a second before stepping forward and enveloping her in a hug.

"Of course we are, silly. I just need some time to let it sink in. But," she warned, "just because we're friends doesn't mean I accept Malfoy. In the end, it's your decision, but many people aren't going to be happy about it. Be careful."

With a final reassuring squeeze, she released Hermione and made her way back to the Gryffindor Common Room to change into warmer attire, leaving behind a relatively happier Hermione. Deciding she wasn't hungry anyway, Hermione made her way back to the Head Common Room thinking that maybe a nap would do her good. After all, she hadn't been sleeping well lately, so she needed to recuperate. And –organise the damned Winter Ball. Lost in thought, she walked to the Head Common Room absently and was surprised to find herself standing in front of their portrait a few moments later. Muttering the password, she stepped inside and blinked. She looked around to make sure she was in the right place. She was.

Gone were the rug, and the cushions and the low-lying coffee table. In their place was a rather large table, half of it covered by books or parchment. Draco sat facing the portrait hole, his head bent down as he scribbled away furiously on a parchment, the Ravenclaw witch sat dangerously close to him, her eyes concentrating on his face rather than the book in front of her, a dazed expression on her own face. Hermione rolled her eyes.

_Sit on his lap, why don't you? _She thought irritably, as the girl inched closer to him.

She cleared her throat. Draco and the girl looked up.

"Malfoy, what's going on here?" she asked, feigning a bored expression, when all she wanted to do was kick the silly bint out of _their _Common Room.

He looked distinctly angry. "I'm tutoring. I did inform you about it this earlier this afternoon, did I not?"

"You did, but I assumed it would be in the _library._ Not in our Common Room. And if you really did want to do it here, you might as well have used the study upstairs," she snapped back, flaring up at his tone. She had just spent the past half an hour or so jeopardizing her relationship with her friends, all because of _him, _and all he could do was snap at her. Granted, he didn't know about it, but still, she deserved _some _sort of respect!

He shrugged and wrote down a few more lines. "I felt more comfortable doing it here."

"Well, maybe it's time you stopped being a selfish prick, and thought about other people's comforts too!"

The instant change in him was remarkable. He set his quill down and in very controlled movements, he stood up. His posture was rigid and his face had hardened. The clench of his jaw and the slightly predatory look in his eyes made Hermione catch her breath. The Ravenclaw girl also held her breath in nervous anticipation as Draco rounded the table and strode towards where Hermione was rooted and grabbed hold of her upper arm, pulling her slightly towards him. Hermione was sure she would bruise from the strength of his grip, and wondered whether her words had triggered this reaction or whether it was something completely different. She hoped it was the latter.

"I hope that's all you had to clear up," he addressed the girl behind them in clipped tones, his angry gaze never wavering from Hermione's uncertain ones. "Because I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this lesson short."

The Ravenclaw nodded hurriedly before realising that he couldn't see her anyway.

"Erm, yes, that's –that's all. For today."

She picked up her things and stuffed them into her bag.

"Well, erm...thank you," she murmured breathlessly to Draco before rushing off.

Hermione had to resist rolling her eyes. Even in a situation like this, the girl would be breathless and gushing. Merlin, he wasn't even _that _good-looking!

Who was she kidding?

He was fucking gorgeous. Even with his stupid pointy face, he was something remarkable to look at. For an instant, Hermione felt jealous of his attractiveness. She wasn't even close to beautiful and she knew it. It had never bothered her that much, at least, not up until now. But he just made her aware of things like her appearance. And seeing him in the company of girls, such as the one who just left, made her realise just how _unattractive _she was. How plain. He was used to beauty. She didn't have all that much. Somehow, that angered her.

If Draco was surprised to see the uncertainty in her eyes replaced by anger, he didn't show it. In fact, he made no move whatsoever, until the portrait swung shut, leaving the Heads alone in the privacy of their Common Room. Hermione gritted her teeth. What _was _he so angry about? Her interrupting them? Was that why he had looked so upset when she had entered?

"Can you let go now?" she asked coldly.

"We have to talk."

"I didn't realise talking constituted of cutting off my blood supply to the rest of my arm and burning a hole into my forehead."

"Don't fuck with me, Granger."

"Gee, Malfoy, I didn't realise that interrupting your little _study date _would upset you this much!"

His gaze turned into one of confusion. "What?"

"Your little study date. The one you were having right now, with little-Miss-Ravenclaw there."

"It wasn't a study date, I was _tutoring _her."

"Funny, she seemed to be staring at you more than at whatever she was supposed to be learning from you."

Draco let go of her arm impatiently. "Granger, I don't have _time _for your jealousy right now, I'm –"

"Jealousy?" Hermione asked loudly, cutting him off. "You're not even worth my jealousy."

"No, I'm not _deserving _of your fucking jealousy, Granger, because, one, I haven't so much as looked at another girl in weeks, and two, we're not in a position where we're _supposed _to get jealous! We're not even together, we're not going out, you _have no right to be jealous_! Fuck, I don't even know _why _I'm explaining myself to you!"

Hermione looked shell-shocked. She _felt _shell-shocked. His words were like a bucket of cold water being poured over her head. How could she ever have thought that he would want to have anything to do with her? How stupid of her, how very, very stupid...

Her eyes started tearing up, and she blinked rapidly to stop them from falling. His words shouldn't have hurt so much, but she was beyond the point of trying to convince herself of another lie. She cared about him a lot, what he said meant a lot, and when he said things like that, it hurt a lot. Simple, cold, hard facts of Hermione Granger's currently pathetic love-life. Or lack thereof.

She opened her mouth to respond, but he beat her to it.

"Granger, I know when _that _look comes on, it means you've misunderstood everything I've said."

"And what am I supposed to think?" she asked, looking anywhere but at him. "I know I'm not your type of girl, I'm not overly pretty or anything, so how can I even think anything?"

He exhaled sharply. The things that girl did to him, the things she made him do...she would never know.

"Granger," he said gruffly, "just –just don't be like that, okay? I didn't say that I don't want to be with you, or that I don't want to go out with you."

_Merlin, he did, so bad._

"It sounded like that's what you meant."

"I –worded wrongly. I –for Merlin's sake, Granger, are you being dense on purpose? I don't care about bloody looks, don't you get that? Or has everything I've said and done these past weeks been in vain?"

Hermione sniffled slightly. When he put it that way, she felt stupid. But no matter what, she couldn't trust his words one-hundred percent...even though she wanted to. She wanted to...kiss him.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise as she grabbed hold of his tie and pulled him down towards her, a purposeful look on her face. She looked almost –determined. Anticipation flooded his veins and his pulse sped up as he realised her aim. It had been so long...

Closing his eyes, he let her mouth claim his, revelling in the feeling of her soft lips on his own, her arms snaking around his neck, to pull him closer. He wrapped his own arms around her small frame and lifted her up slightly to make up for their height difference. Standing on tiptoe now, Hermione gave out a small whimper of frustration at the change in position. Her toes hurt. Draco smirked and broke the kiss.

"What do you _want_ me to do, Granger? It's not _my _fault you're so short," he said, breathing heavily.

She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to clear her head. There were a _lot _of things her hormones wanted him to do, but she wasn't quite sure if her mind was in accord. At least, not until she knew how he felt...about her.

"What do we need to talk about?"

The anger returned.

"Zabini. Parkinson. And their little _game_."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, an update, finally. I suppose you should thank Taylor for kindly reminding me that it's been a _month_ since my last update, and people do lose interest in stories. Which is rather strange, since, I'm hooked on stories that haven't been updated in months, but I know the minute a new chapter's out, I'll read it. Anyhow, in an attempt to keep your interest in this story intact, I have hastily posted this chapter. Unbeta-ed. **

**My A-Level exams are 3 months away, and while I know that I risk sounding like a total nerd saying this, I can't revise 2 years' worth syllabus content in one month, so I have to start now. Which is why my updates will be slower...I hope you guys understand...I fail my A-Levels, and that's "bye-bye university" for me. If you do _not _understand my predicament, then please, by all means, do 'lose interest' in the story. **

**On the lighter side of things, another thing that's been consuming a lot of my time is birthday-gift shopping...it seems as though everyone and his brother were born in this June-July period! My mum, my dad, my bf, my BFFs...and the list goes on...so my pockets are considerably lighter. And if your birthday is/was during this period, then HAPPY (belated/early) BIRTHDAY TO YOU TOO!! Mwah! And while I can't buy you a gift, the most I can do...is update this story :D**

**And finally...to all Bleach fans (if any of you are Bleach fans)...omg! I'm hooked. I _knew _there was a reason why I didn't want to start with another anime other than Naruto. I officially detest the person who forced me to watch it. Ugh!**

**Don't hesitate to leave a comment/review/good-kick-in-the-butt...anything, so long as you _don't _try to rush me into another chapter (it will come!). A huge hug and "THANK YOU" to ALL my reviewers, readers, alert-ers, favourite-ers (I know, I'm making up words here) for sticking with me thus far. You're the awesome-est ever! If I haven't replied to your reviews, then, trust me, I do want to...but...read above. And, last but not least, if this A/N has offended or angered anyone, then, I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention, but I've said what had to be said.**

**Huggles**

**Rae**


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24:**

Ginny leaned against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes against the wintry breeze that blew her way. The snow was falling steadily, assurances that the following morning would surely bring a world swathed in white. That didn't improve Ginny's mood much. She was a more of a summer person. She enjoyed the sun, the heat –no matter how unbearable it could get, she enjoyed being outdoors, she enjoyed being able to play Quidditch, she enjoyed not having to wear layers and layers of clothes in an attempt to keep warm. She enjoyed everything about summer. But winter, not so much. Everything looked depressing and dull, and it was cold, so cold. And when she needed to clear her head, her thoughts, she couldn't fly. She couldn't even bloody _walk _around outside, unless she intended on freezing to death. The most she could do was what she was doing now. Nothing.

She could stay in, stay warm, surrounded by friends and laughter, but Ginny couldn't think that way. Being outdoors was the only solution to a head swarming with unpleasant thoughts. In her case, anyway. But whenever winter came around, the effectiveness of that method was reduced. Anyone in the Weasely family would be able to confirm that over sixty-five percent of Ginny's bad moods made an appearance during that season.

What Ginny was proud of, though, was the way she had managed to keep her temper in check around Hermione –for most of the part. The news had shocked and angered her beyond belief, but she had managed to remain at least a tad bit supportive of her friend. Hermione had some hard times ahead of her –telling Harry and Ron. The least Ginny could do was not add to Hermione's grief.

And, Hermione did have a point. Malfoy and Hermione…_hated _each other. Or used to. Or whatever. If Hermione felt she was in a position where she could actually _admit _to liking Malfoy, then it wasn't something that could be dismissed easily. It wasn't just a passing fancy –not that Hermione had those, anyway. It was something real, something big, glaring, and overall ugly. Ugly, but with a hint of beauty. It was beautiful in its absurdity, in its improbability.

_Improbable, but not impossible, _Ginny thought.

Still, the thought of _Malfoy _and Hermione…_together_was ludicrous. Malfoy simply spelled out 'Filthy Rich, Ridiculously Pureblooded Bigot' and Hermione represented everything he had been brought up to look down upon. Not to mention, he was the school's biggest skirt-chaser. And unfortunately, a majority of the girls were more than willing to drop their skirts for him, if need be. So, what if Hermione was merely another skirt to him? Just another conquest, another notch in his bedpost. In a sense, she would be the pinnacle of his achievements, because, honestly, how many other boys could claim that they had slept with their worst enemy, who also happened to be the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived? None.

Ginny trusted Hermione's judgement implicitly –except where Quidditch was concerned, but she worried that maybe in this instance, her judgement was rather clouded and Ginny was hesitant to trust her. But, she didn't have much of a right to interfere with Hermione's happiness –if that was what Malfoy brought her. Ginny knew that in a way she owed Hermione for bringing her and Harry closer together. Neither Harry nor Hermione had mentioned anything of it, but Ginny was more than sure that Hermione had given out more than one long sermon about how Harry should "Get The Hell Up And Ask Ginny Out Before Someone Else Does" and "Not Regret It When He Turns Sixty And Still Lives Alone Because He Lost His Chance With His One True Love".

In the end, that was what sealed Ginny's resolve. She didn't approve of Malfoy, possibly never would, but if Hermione was happy then Ginny would support her. If this was a mistake (which it most likely was), then it was Hermione's mistake to make and Ginny wouldn't baby her. If things took a turn for the worse Ginny would be there for her. If things did work out, then she would attempt to see the better side in Malfoy –a feat near impossible, in Ginny's mind. Because that was what friends did, after all. They stuck by each other.

* * *

_­­­_

The following morning, a notice was put up in each Common Room informing the Prefects of a meeting that was to be held that afternoon. Being the end of the term, this created much confusion amongst the Prefects –a confusion which lasted all day, up until the very moment the words left the Head Girl's mouth.

"Professor Dumbledore wants us to organise a Winter Ball. How many are in favour?"

Majority of the hands were raised immediately, save for the few who preferred to go home than stay at school. Hermione pursed her lips at this enthusiastic response. She had been hoping that majority would refuse –this ball was really not something she wanted to go through. Not that she didn't enjoy them, she did. But present circumstances made her less than willing to go through the trouble of organising them.

"Right then," Draco started, when Hermione failed to respond. "We've already discussed the basics with Dumbledore. Whoever wants to leave, may do so, but for those staying for the ball, the Hogwarts Express will be making another trip a week later."

"The students are going to need a trip to Hogsmeade...this is _very_ short notice," a fifth year Ravenclaw piped up.

"That can be arranged," Draco replied. "Dumbledore wants us to host the Ball next Saturday. That means we have exactly one week to get everything done. So, I propose –"

Hermione cleared her throat at this. Draco amended, " –that is, _we _propose that there should be committees, each in charge of a different aspect of preparation. It's probably the quickest way to get everything done. And, we'll know who slacks off."

There were murmurs of agreement amongst the Prefects.

"So we'll be giving you the groups later on," Draco continued, his voice carrying over the noise, effectively silencing the students. "Remember, any decisions you make need to be approved by either the Head Girl or myself. And after the decision has been made final, should you require any extra help in the preparations, you may seek assistance from your fellow classmates –provided that not _too _many are involved. That would just ruin the fun."

He waited a moment for the students to digest this piece of information. "And lastly, this Ball requires you to bring a...partner. Unless you want to come alone, that's fine. But our Headmaster has requested that, as far as possible, you should go with someone from another House. Inter-house unity, and all that crap. We can't impose that request upon _all _the students of Hogwarts, but we have no qualms enforcing that rule on _you _people, because you do need to set an example, after all."

There were collective groans from Slytherin Prefects and some other Prefects. An adamant Slytherin Prefect asked Draco, not too politely, who he'd be going with. To which Draco replied, "Why, Granger, of course."

Hermione wondered whether someone had cast a wordless _Silenco _over the whole room, because suddenly everyone had stopped talking. It was so quiet, Hermione could almost hear a faint buzzing in her head. Her _thoughts _seemed too loud.

"Before you idiots waste any more brain cells trying to figure out some bullshit story about undying love between me and Granger, let me tell you that it was decided by Dumbledore that we have to go together," Draco drawled, annoyed. "We didn't have much say in it. So, do us a favour, and stop thinking."

Silence prevailed for a few more seconds before Blaise spoke out. "You don't seem too upset about being forced to go with a Mudblood, Malfoy."

Gasps of outrage broke out around the whole room, and several hostile gazes, mainly from Gryffindor Prefects, rested upon the dark boy who leaned nonchalantly against a far wall. Next to Draco, Hermione had turned beet red and was fighting to keep her cool. It simply wouldn't do to hex him now, in a room full of eye-witnesses.

"Yeah, well, last I heard you didn't seem to find much of a problem with her either, Zabini," Draco retorted. "Or wait, are you still sore because she dumped you?"

Snickers broke out around the room and the tension subsided marginally as the formerly livid students now turned a mocking gaze upon Blaise, waiting for a response from him, if any. There was none. Instead, Blaise chose to glare daggers at Draco, who in turn, looked coolly back.

"Anyhow, fifteen points from Slytherin for usage of a derogatory term and insulting the Head Girl."

A fifth-year Hufflepuff fainted from shock.

* * *

After another frantic hour, which consisted of the Hufflepuff being revived, the selection of the committees and the assignation of jobs, the Prefects filed out of the Head Common Room, chattering excitedly about the Ball. Hermione slumped down tiredly onto a cushion, threw her head back and put a hand over her eyes to block out the light.

"That was ridiculous," she moaned, as she heard the portrait close. "Why are they so damned _happy _about the bloody ball? Shouldn't they be dying to go home or something?"

Draco rolled his eyes at her dramatic stance. "Get over it, Granger. And besides, as Head Girl, aren't you supposed to be a little more bloody enthusiastic?"

"I am enthusiastic! See?" she asked, waving around the hand not covering her eyes. "I'm jumping for joy here, really."

"Yeah, Granger," he remarked drily, "sure. I bet you're just dying of happiness on the inside, aren't you? Anyway," he said, stretching himself out onto a cushion. "I thought occasions like these were supposed to be the light of females' lives. Where did you go wrong?"

Hermione uncovered her eyes and glowered at him and his thinly veiled insult. "Shove off, Malfoy. I happen to enjoy them just fine, but I have _other _priorities."

He made a disbelieving noise, which she ignored. "And besides, it's hard to feel all celebratory when all I want to do is severely injure those two no-good, pathetic excuses for human beings. I can't believe –" Hermione broke off as all her anger from the previous night returned. Draco's recount of what he had heard had infuriated her to such a level that he had had to physically restrain her from hunting down Pansy and Blaise and hexing them so badly that their ancestors _and _their offspring would feel the effects. That is, if they lived long enough to produce any offspring. Instead, he had held her tightly to him as she had continued struggling, whispering his plan for revenge into her ear until she started to stop and actually listen to him. For once in her life, she had been glad that he was a Slytherin.

"If you still can't believe it, then you're dumber than I initially thought," Draco replied scornfully.

"I'm not dumb, you prick," she shot back. "I'm just not accustomed to assuming the worst about people. And besides, it's not like you single-handedly worked out their plan in your head. You eavesdropped on them."

"I'm Slytherin, it's what I do."

"Uh –you eavesdrop?"

"No," he said, annoyed. "I use sneaky, devious, cunning and underhanded methods."

"True. Not to mention, lucky, because it was pure chance that you happened to be passing that corridor yesterday."

Draco made a frustrated sound. "Don't I get _any _credit?"

"Sure," Hermione smirked. "You reported everything to _me _almost verbatim."

Draco closed his eyes in despair. He had created a monster...that was rapidly turning on him. Obviously, he wasn't having a very good effect on her. Too bad he had no plans of staying away. Struck by an idea, he got off his cushion and walked over to where she lay, hand once again covering her eyes. Kneeling down in front of her, he leaned towards her until his cheek rested against hers, his mouth close to her ear. He took her free hand into his own, entwining their fingers together and smirked as he felt her pulse quickening.

"So," he whispered. "What do I get as a reward for a job well done?"

Although she didn't remove her hand from her eyes, her sharp intake of breath was more than enough to ensure that she wasn't as calm and collected as she pretended to be.

"It was hardly a job worthy of a _reward_, Malfoy," she mumbled, trying to sound as scornful as possible and failing miserably. "So, I don't think you'll be getting anything from me at all."

"That's not very nice, Granger. I think I deserve _something_..."

"You do," she conceded. She finally removed her hand from her eyes and pushed him away slightly so she could focus on his face properly. "Thank you, Malfoy," she said, her eyes conveying the sincerity of her words.

His brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "For what?"

"For telling me."

"Why wouldn't I tell you? This concerns you as much as it concerns me."

"I know, and that's what I'm thanking you for. For understanding that, for telling me, for not babying me, for giving me a chance to stick up for myself. For being honest to me."

One side of his mouth curved upwards in a somewhat cynical smile. "I think I've been pretty honest with you for as long as I've known you. I may not have been nice, but I didn't lie to you."

She gave a wistful smile of her own. "Yeah."

"And besides," he said, in a lighter tone, "I don't fancy being hexed –which is most probably what you'd do to me once you did find out about it. Might as well tell you myself, and then try and get a token of your...uh, _gratitude._"

She laughed. "Don't you think of anything else?"

"What can I say?" he murmured. "I'm very persistent."

She rolled her eyes. "I can tell."

Giving in, she leaned her face in towards his, aware that this was the second time that she was initiating a kiss. Deciding that she didn't mind after all, she brought her hands up to his face, deepening the kiss as he responded with equal vigour. His hands were running up and down her back, her sides, her hair –he wanted to feel every bit of her.

She stifled a whimper as she felt him edge his fingers below the hem of her t-shirt. The feel of his fingertips on her bare skin sent shivers up her spine. She loved the way he kissed her. She loved his touches. She loved his near-brutal honesty. She loved –

_Wait. No –_

* * *

**A/N: A quick update because I came down with the flu and couldn't revise :D  
It's unbeta-ed (and I'm sick :P) so please excuse the numerous grammatical errors you may find :)**

**Also, here is YOUR chance to actively participate in this story!! As I mentioned to a reviewer, I SUCK at revenge plots, so YOU (my beloved readers) get to suggest ideas for revenge. What could Hermione and Draco do to those two annoying pigs? What do **_**you **_**want them to do? **

**The person whose suggestion gets picked gets the next chapter before it's posted...with their idea in it! :) So, if you're an unsigned reviewer, I'd recommend that you leave your email address, or something :)  
**

**I don't mind silent readers, I often am one, but!!**** Put aside your silence this one time, and suggest your heart away :D**

**Cheers!**

**Rae**


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25:**

"I love you."

Harry blinked once, twice. "I love you, too."

Ginny smiled and cuddled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replied, looking at her strangely. It wasn't like Ginny to be so hesitant, so the fact that she _was _hesitant, along with her previous out-of-the-blue declaration meant that whatever was on her mind was no laughing matter. Harry knew that much.

"I –and, don't read too much into this, okay? It's just a simple question." Ginny took in a deep breath and licked her lower lip as anxiety flooded through her. Was this right? Was she betraying Hermione's confidence by doing this? As the internal conflict waged on, Ginny closed her eyes and frowned slightly, missing the worried look that ghosted across Harry's face.

"What is it, Gin?" Harry asked gently, concern evident in his tones. He could feel the build-up of anxiety in his chest. This wasn't bound to be anything good.

"Something really stupid, actually. I was just...thinking about what Zabini told us yesterday."

Harry gazed at her seriously for a moment and then scoffed. He rolled his eyes heavenward and pulled away from Ginny, his body tense and his movements controlled. He rested his elbows on his knees and studied his hands, a frown forming on his face. Ginny watched him, not liking his reaction. Had she blown everything? Hermione would kill her. Hell, she felt like killing _herself_!

"Harry –"

"It's true, isn't it?" he cut her off abruptly, still not looking up from his hands.

Ginny fell silent. She –along with everyone else –knew about Harry's rather volatile temper. And although she could handle him better than most, she didn't fancy being on the receiving end of one of his...loud...tirades. And she didn't want to be the reason he never talked to his best friend again. As it was, the damage could be fixed, but only just. Answering his question would mean something irreparable. Something she didn't want to be responsible for.

"Tell me, Ginny. What Zabini said...it's true, isn't it. I know you know, so don't lie." His tone was as cold as ice, matching his green eyes. Ginny fought not to gulp in trepidation.

"I –I can't say, Harry. It's not my place."

He exhaled heavily and finally met her eyes. "I suppose I knew it was true the moment she walked up to us. Just the look on her face –" he broke off and stared into the fire. "She's been my best friend for so long –I can read her just like a book."

Ginny placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, not bothering to refute his claims. There was no use. Like he had said, he could see through any lies she tried to tell. "Are you angry?"

"Fuck, yes!" he replied vehemently, scowling. After a moment, his expression softened slightly. "But she _is _my best friend. I can't hate her for her decision. It's her life."

"So...you're okay with it?" Ginny asked hopefully, breathing an internal sigh of relief.

"No, I'm bloody well _not _okay with it! Malfoy...what does she _see _in him? He's an evil git! And everything he's ever said, or done to us in the past, every hurtful remark he's every made about her...how can she forgive him? How can she expect _us _to forgive him?"

Ginny wanted to nod in agreement, but held back. She had started this mess and there was no way she was going to leave it to Hermione to clear up. "I honestly don't know, Harry...if you had told me four months ago that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy...I would have written to St. Mungo's about their future -mentally-imbalanced- patient, but it's happening and it feels right to her. Or maybe it doesn't, but it's happening anyway. She can't stop it –"

Harry sat up suddenly and interrupted her. "Yeah, that's right! Maybe he's forcing her into this –!"

"Harry! Maybe she doesn't _want _to stop it! You're severely undermining Hermione; you know that, don't you? You can't force her to do something she doesn't want to. It's possible that she's seen a side of Malfoy that we haven't. A better side."

Harry snorted. "Please, he has no _better side. _He's evil through and through. And I can't believe you're defending him! What's gotten into you?"

"I'm not defending _him; _I'm supporting Hermione's decision! Which is what you should be doing!"

"I can't support her decision, I hate Malfoy!"

"But you don't hate Hermione. And like you said, it's her life. If this is a mistake –"

"There's no _if _about it. This is a mistake." Harry grumbled.

"Right, whatever. But it's her mistake to make. Not yours, not mine, it's hers. Don't let her hate you for interfering in her life. Stand by her now, and if it all crumbles, we'll still be here for her. That's the least we can do for her as her friends."

"You know, it annoys me, the way you keep saying '_if _this happens and _if _that happens'. For Merlin's sakes, we both know this won't end well!"

"No we don't. For all we know, they could be a match made in heaven!"

Harry gagged slightly and Ginny restrained herself from following suit. The thought was nauseating.

"Or not!" she reiterated. "But we still need to leave her alone about this."

Harry's lips quirked up in a small smile and he looked at Ginny warmly, amused at her heated lecture. "Is that what you want me to do?"

Ginny nodded.

"Anything for the girl I love," he said, laughing and pulling her close again.

* * *

Somewhere along the way Hermione had lost her t-shirt. She didn't know when, or how he had done it without actually breaking apart from her, but it was gone. And she didn't really care. The effect of his hands on her bare skin was heady. He pulled her down until she lay on the carpet and positioned himself on top of her, careful to balance his weight so he didn't crush her.

Hermione didn't think she'd ever get tired of kissing him. She didn't think she'd ever tired of _him, _period. That thought definitely got her adrenaline pumping. It was miraculous that her heart hadn't burst out of her chest already. She slipped her own hands between their bodies and started to undo the buttons on his white Oxford as quickly as she could, without actually ripping it off. She felt him smile against her lips. Her hands stopped in their task and she broke their kiss, breathing heavily and frowning slightly.

"What exactly are you smirking about _now_, Malfoy?"

"Nothing," he replied, leaning his head down to capture her lips again. He frowned as she pushed him away slightly. Undeterred, he kissed his way along her jaw-line, down her neck, making his way towards her breasts.

Ignoring the overpowering sensations his actions were creating was the hardest thing Hermione had ever attempted in her whole life. She struggled to control her breathing as she felt him unclasp her bra.

_I can do this. I can do this. I can do this, _Hermione chanted to herself. What better person to do this with other than the man she lo- uh- liked, right? Right.  
But the question that bothered her most was _did he return her feelings? _Everything he had said or done so far would indicate a positive answer to the question, but what if she was just an obsession to him, a passing fancy? And what if...sex was all he wanted from her? The thought was sobering. Hermione couldn't claim to be a great romantic, but there were certain things she preferred to do...a certain way. This just happened to be one of those things.

She bit back a gasp as her bra was removed completely. She felt him freeze atop her and a blush spread through her as she became overly conscious of his intense stare. She didn't look at him; she didn't want to see the expression on his face, or in his eyes. Instead, cheeks flushing, she turned her head to the side, so as to remove his face from her line of sight altogether.

"Granger," he whispered huskily a few moments later. She ignored him, closing her eyes. A cool finger on her chin turned her head to face him. "Look at me."

Slowly, she complied, her brown eyes opening to meet his grey ones. She had to suppress another gasp at the look in his eyes. He looked ready to devour her. Which was rather thrilling, and an ego boost to boot. He obviously wasn't displeased by what he saw. But, he kept her eyes trained on her face, searching for any indication to stop –or continue.

He brought his lips close to her ear and whispered again, "Granger, are you scared?"

Hermione bristled at the insinuation. "No," she replied as firmly as she could.

He lazily ran a hand over her abdomen, up her ribs and cupped her breast gently. "Are you sure?" he asked, his face inches away from her own. "Because if you are scared, we can stop right now..."

"I'm...I'm sure," Hermione ground out, her heart rate increasing tenfold at his ministrations. There was no use in lying to him, because after all, she really was sure about this now. But to her immense frustration, he didn't do anything. He simply looked at her, waiting for her to show him just how _unafraid _she was. Hermione could have cried at the injustice of it all. Of all the times Draco Malfoy could have chosen to act like a decent person, he just _had _to choose this moment!

_Fine, _she thought, _he wants forwardness, I'll give him forwardness._

With super-human strength she didn't know she possessed (most likely fuelled by her current state of frustration and arousal), she rolled them over, so that she straddled Draco's hips. Smirking at the surprised expression on his face, she stood up and undid the button on her jeans. As she pulled down the zipper, she wondered where this newfound courage stemmed from. Because she definitely hadn't been feeling this courageous five minutes ago. Deciding to analyse the curious phenomenon later, she carefully peeled off the jeans and dropped them aside, her eyes taking in every emotion that played across Draco's face. Left in only her underwear, she straddled him again, fighting down a blush at the very prominent evidence of his arousal. Smiling slightly, she leaned down so that she was pressed flush against him, her face now hovering inches above his own. She heard his breath hitch and gave herself a mental pat on the back. Mission accomplished.

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" she breathed. "Are you...scared?"

She didn't have time to react as he pulled her head down with one hand to give her a searing kiss, all the while divesting himself of his clothing with the other.

The last lucid thought that ran through her mind was, _I'm going to shag Draco Malfoy...on the Common Room floor? _

* * *

"Hey, where's Hermione?" Ron asked, scanning the Great Hall. "It's not like her to miss dinner."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. Draco was nowhere in sight either, so they had a pretty good idea of where she was. The one thing they had agreed upon was that the news should be broken to Ron by Hermione herself. Neither of the two was willing to face Ron's wrath.

"And, besides, it _is _Hermione's place to tell people, not ours," Ginny had concluded. Harry had agreed quite enthusiastically.

Clearing her throat, Ginny answered, "Uh, Ron? Hermione misses dinner _all _the time. She's probably in the library or something."

"Nope," Ron managed to sputter out through a mouthful of food. He swallowed quickly. "I checked the library before, when I was looking for her."

"You were looking for her?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised.

" Yeah," he answered sheepishly, "I need some help with my –uh –Charms essay. It's not coming along as smoothly as I would have liked."

Harry snorted in amusement. In other words, Ron hadn't started on his essay at all.

"Well, good luck on that, mate."

Ron nodded and scanned the Great Hall again. "Hey," he frowned, "ferret-face isn't here either!"

Ginny's eyes widened fractionally as she ran possible excuses through her mind.

"Uh, yeah...so?" Harry asked, a bit too quickly.

Ron looked at Harry incredulously. "Harry...what if he's with Hermione?"

"What if he is, Ron?"

"What if he's...I don't know...annoying her, or hurting her...or something?"

Harry expelled the breath he had been holding in. "I really doubt that, Ron. Too risky for him right now."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "And plus, you _both _seem to keep forgetting that Hermione is a capable witch who can take care of herself!"

Ron's eyebrows drew closer together as he contemplated that. "Well," he said finally, "I guess I'll go by the Head dorms later."

Ginny nodded slowly and resumed eating as Ron wolfed down the rest of his food.

* * *

Someone somewhere was tapping at something, but Hermione shut out the sound. She was having the best sleep of her life and she would be damned if some idiot's incessant tapping woke her up! Giving out a small _'hmph' _she turned around and lazily threw an arm around the body next to her, stealing some of his body warmth.

Draco.

Hermione smiled.

"What are you smiling like a loon about, Granger?" came an arrogant drawl.

The smile vanished. "Shut up, Malfoy. I like you better that way," she mumbled, without opening her eyes. The tapping seemed to become louder.

"I'm sure you do, but Granger, I thought I should let you know that Weasel is trying to break down the portrait right now."

It took Hermione's brain ten seconds to process that. "What?" she gasped, eyes snapping open.

* * *

**A/N: Wow...it's been...a while, eh? Blame my mock exams (which -just- finished today). Final exams in a month! -hyperventilates-  
Right, anyway, this chapter is definitely NOT the best thing I've written, in fact, I'm not too happy with it myself. Once again, blame it on my mock exams, which have pretty much drained my brain and left it quite...empty. My muse packed up and left for a less stressful environment sometime around the second week of my mock exams (I'm been having them for the past month now...16 papers :S) so my writing really, really sucks. Maybe I'll rewrite this chapter...after my final exams. **

**I posted this rather pathetic chapter for three reasons: **

**1. Because it was a now or never situation.**

**2. It's my birthday on Saturday and I figured I should post something for that :D**

**3. I won't be posting for quite a while after this.**

**I seem to be lacking a beta reader, and right now I could really use one, more specifically for -this- chapter. So, if anyone out there is willing, PM me, and I will send you this chapter for editing. But, uh, it will only be for this chapter, because after that, as I mentioned, this story will be on temporary hiatus until December, and I wouldn't want to keep a beta reader hanging like that.**

**Okay, super-long A/N, I know, but lastly a HUGE thank you to all my readers and reviewers...hope you guys can put up with my crappy update timings for a little longer****...it will get better, I promise :D And I know, I haven't answered anyone's reviews, but I have read and greatly appreciated every one of them...they were a real encouragement. And if you've enjoyed my writing (this chapter excluded, yuck), then you might want to check out a fic I posted a few months (or was it weeks?) ago, called A Rush Of Blood to the Head**** (yes, I know I'm pimping my fics and shamelessly so). It's only got four chapters or so till now, but I find that story easier to write than this one, so I may update it more frequently. **

**And finally, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter (to a certain extent, anyway). Feedback is always welcome and highly appreciated (but you guys know that already). Until I update again...**

**Rae****  
**


	27. Chapter 26

**A/N: Hi y'all..it's been one month, right? So I thought, okay, instead of not updating for two months, I'll update once now (in October) and once again (in November)...well, that's at least my plan for now :) This chapter...is like one of those filler episodes in animes...it has almost nothing to do with the main plot, lol. It's just some D/Hr interaction (yay!) and to get rid of that cliffie (?) from the previous chapter. So...I :hope: you enjoy this chapter and if you do, leave a review! (It takes all of 5 seconds) **

**Cheers!  
**

* * *

**Chapter 26:**

"Shoot!" Hermione cursed under her breath, throwing the sheet off her and groping around for her t-shirt. It was nowhere in sight. Odd. She struggled to unravel herself from the sheet that had somehow gotten tangled between her legs. "Malfoy, have you seen my t-shirt anywhere?"

"Not recently, no." The amusement in his voice was evident. The prat was actually _enjoying _her discomfort. She scowled at him, which only widened his grin. "Although, I happen to think you look perfect the way you are right now."

Hermione could feel a blush stain her cheeks but her scowl stayed firmly in place. "So you're saying that I should just go and greet Ron in my underwear, is that it?" she asked sarcastically.

His pale eyebrows drew together, changing his grin to a frown, as he considered that. "No!" was his vehement reply.

"Then help me look for it!" She stood up and glanced across the room. She spotted her jeans near the coffee table and his clothes were...well, everywhere, but her t-shirt eluded her. "Malfoy...help!"

Giving an exaggerated sigh, he stood up slowly and dropped the sheet, eliciting a gasp from Hermione.

"And for crying out loud, put _some _clothes on!" she exclaimed, reddening even further. The boy seemed to have no problems with nudity, judging by the fact that he remained as naked as the day he was born, sporting a smirk on his face.

"Hey," he shrugged, "you're the one who wanted my help," he reminded. "And besides, it's nothing you haven't seen before, so your blushing is pointless."

"I always blush," she muttered, looking away as he approached her.

"I don't mind," he mumbled, taking her by the waist and pulling her to him.

Hermione lost her trail of thought as his face descended to hers, unconsciously wrapping her arms around his neck to bring him closer. He brushed his lips softly against her, avoiding all her attempts to deepen the kiss.

She gave a frustrated moan as he moved his lips away, nipping her earlobe instead.

"As much as I'd love to continue this, your..._friend _is still outside and he is _still _waiting for you."

He stepped away, taking with him the haze that had clouded Hermione's mind. "R-right," she stammered. "Of course. My t-shirt."

Ron had now progressed to hollering her name. If Hermione didn't respond soon, he was liable to blow the portrait off its hinges...or at least try to, anyway.

"HERMIONE!"

"JUST A MINUTE, RON! THE COMMON ROOM'S –UH –FULL OF PARCHMENT, I JUST NEED TO CLEAR IT UP!"

The excuse was beyond flimsy (Draco raised an eyebrow and adopted a 'is-that-the-best-you-can-come-up-with look), but Ron bought it anyway. "FINE, I'LL JUST WAIT OUT HERE!"

The knocking stopped.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, but then instantly felt guilty. Of course Ron would believe her –she'd never lied to her best friends before. She'd never had a reason to lie before. She sighed and tried to push it away. She couldn't deal with it right now. Grabbing her jeans from the ground, she pulled it on, trying not to stare as Draco started to get dressed too. How could be so blasé about the situation? Of course, he'd done this before, countless times, with a countless number of girls...Hermione frowned. She didn't like thinking of the reason why he was so good at sex, or why he was so comfortable with his nudity, why he was so unaffected by her...her frown intensified. Draco noticed.

"What?" he asked, buttoning his trousers.

She shook her head and dropped her eyes, still frowning. She hated feeling as though...she didn't match up to him, but that was exactly how he made her feel in situations like this. Inferior.

"Okay, stop biting your lip off. What is it?" he asked again, shrugging his shirt on.

"Nothing," Hermione replied, turning to go up to her room. She really needed to find a t-shirt to put on.

He followed her. "It doesn't sound like nothing," he persisted.

She sighed. "It's nothing important, anyway. It's stupid." She walked into her room and through her walk-in closet, aware that he was still following her. He leaned against the shelves as she rummaged for a shirt.

"Granger, you look like that fur ball of yours died. That's not nothing."

"Don't call Crookshanks a fur ball, Malfoy."

"Don't avoid the subject."

"I don't want to talk about it. It's embarrassing."

"Where's all that Gryffindor courage you people keep harping on about, then?"

"Fine," Hermione huffed, relenting. He'd hound her for the rest of her life if she didn't tell him. She sucked in a deep breath. "IhatehowIdon'tseemtoaffectyou."

He laughed abruptly, taking Hermione by surprise. He rarely laughed and she had thought that maybe it was because he didn't know how to...but he did. And it was a pleasant laugh to. Hermione watched him, entranced.

"Granger, stop staring at me and repeat what you said. It sounded like gibberish."

Hermione blinked, reddened rapidly and glared at him. "I said," she repeated slowly, "that I hate how I don't seem to affect you. At all."

Now Draco looked surprised, all traces of laughter wiped off his face. He felt more than surprised...for a second he worried that he was going into a state of shock. She thought she didn't affect him? She made him jump through all kinds of hoops and she was talking about being _unaffected_? He wished that were the case. Hell, he'd give up his right arm for that to be the case. He watched her as she silently pulled on a t-shirt and ran a hand through her hair and realised that she really was bothered by her misconception.

"You think so?" he asked, moving in front of her to block her path to the exit.

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

She gave a small shrug and fixed her eyes on a point beyond his left shoulder. "You're used to this kind of thing."

He clenched his jaw. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you've been with a lot of girls, so I'm probably not much different. Well, except that they're usually gorgeous and I'm not –"

She found herself pushed back against the shelves behind her, her feet dangling a few inches above the ground, a hand clapped over her mouth while another arm was snaked around her waist, to prevent her from pressing into the sharp edge of the shelf. She frowned and looked up at Draco. He looked distinctly angry.

"Granger," he said in a low, heated voice, his face close to hers, "we've discussed this. I don't know what kind of an inferiority complex you're harbouring, but you should let it go. At any rate, I blame the company you keep."

Hermione tried to protest at this, but his hand was still over her mouth.

"Maybe Potty and Weasel don't compliment you on your looks enough, but if they've ever said that you're _plain_, then they're blind. You're far from _plain_."

He let that sink in for a moment, and then slowly lifted his hand from her mouth, running it through her hair instead.

"Malfoy," she said quietly, "you don't have to say that just because we've slept together."

He groaned in defeat and dropped his forehead onto her shoulder. He wasn't sure how exactly he could show her what _he _saw. "Granger," came his muffled voice, "I'm _not _saying that because we just slept together. I'm saying it because it's true. I've never –it's never been..."

Fuck. The words were stuck in his throat. He had never stayed interested in a girl for this long...hell, he'd never even _been _interested in a girl to an extent where he actually admitted his interest out loud! A few heated snogs had usually sufficed. Something told him the same tactic wouldn't work on Hermione.

_So many fucking hoops..._

"Granger," he sucked up his pride and every male instinct telling him to keep his mouth _shut_, "I...the others –they didn't mean anything to me. Not the way you do."

He felt a tentative hand smooth his hair and a warm cheek press against his own. "Okay." It came out as a mere breath of air.

"You _know _what I mean, Granger. Just like you know I can't say it, but..." _Fuck!_ "...you know it's there. So don't say things like that."

"Okay," she repeated.

"Good." He pressed a soft kiss to her neck and put her down.

"I –umm...I think Ron's still down there...I should go..." she mumbled dazedly, not making any effort to move.

His jaw clenched, but he only gave a curt nod.

"Right," she mumbled, still looking a bit dazed.

He moved out of her way as she made to walk out of the closet.

"Oh, and Granger."

She turned and looked at him questioningly.

"I think the sheet lying on the carpet downstairs used to be your t-shirt."

Her eyes widened and then narrowed at him. "I'll deal with _you _when I get back," she threatened.

"Can't wait," he replied, smiling.

She froze once again and bit her lip, before hurrying out.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he muttered softly once he heard her descending the stairs and ran a hand through his hair.

_I hope you're happy now, Granger. You've turned me into some kind of lovesick puppy. _

The worst part was that he wasn't sure that he minded so much. For the thousandth time that day, he groaned.

* * *

"Hi, Ron," Hermione smiled up at the slightly annoyed boy. "Sorry about the wait. There was –erm –a _lot _of parchment."

The guilt made a reappearance. Hermione viciously suppressed it. Now was not the time.

"On the Common Room floor?" Ron asked snappily.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, Ron. Malfoy and I were working out plans for the ball next Saturday." She shrugged. "Needless to say, we weren't agreeing on much, hence a _lot _of parchment all over the Common Room floor."

Hermione curled her fingers into fists to stop herself from fidgeting –something she did whenever she was nervous. The explanation seemed plausible enough, but Ron _was _one of her best friends. He was supposed to be able to see through her lies.

But then again, he wasn't the most perceptive person on Earth, so perhaps she was safe.

"Right," he muttered. "Anyway, are you busy?"

"Erm –not really, no. Why?"

"I was hoping you could come up to the Gryffindor Common Room."

"Sure," Hermione smiled, happy to be able to spend some time with her friends and pleased that Ron had thought to come and get her. "Are Harry and Ginny there too? It's about time we all spend some time together. Revising for the exams took up so much of my time before...at least I don't have to worry revising for a while, now that exams are over."

_At least, not until tomorrow_, she thought to herself. NEWTs were, after all, coming up. She couldn't take _too _long a break.

"Erm, actually, Hermione," Ron began, looking sheepish, "I –uh –got a Charms essay from Flitwick due for Monday. My Charms score wasn't very good, so Flitwick's assigned me extra homework until my score improves."

The smile froze on Hermione's face. Homework. That's what he wanted her for.

"Er...Hermione?" Ron asked, worriedly, noting how the temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees around them. "I –I mean, if you'd rather not, I –"

Hermione held up a hand to silence him. "You came up here...to ask me to help you with homework?"

"Well –uh..." Ron looked around him, as though expecting the walls to provide him with a means of escape. "Yeah," he finally admitted, looking abashed.

"In that case, I amend my previous statement. I'm really busy right now. Excuse me."

She muttered the password in a low voice to the portrait, ignoring Ron's half-formed apologies, and walked back into the Common Room, shutting the portrait in his face.

Anger and indignation burnt a path through her as she stomped up the stairs and into her room. She hadn't talked to Ron properly in weeks, and when he did want to talk to her, it was about his homework. Was that all she was good for? To help him with his fucking_ homework?_

"He can do his bloody homework himself," she muttered viciously, pulling off her t-shirt, and kicking off her shoes.

A shower was what she needed now –for her previous _activities _(Hermione blushed at the memory) and to dissolve her anger. And if it didn't work, maybe she would go and see Draco. At any rate, he would make her forget. He, unfortunately, always did.

She walked into the bathroom, angrily divesting herself of all her clothing along the way. Some _friend _Ron turned out to be. She locked Draco's door with a flick of her wand, which she later placed on the shelf outside the shower cubicle. She wasn't sure why she locked the door to his...was there any point in doing that anymore?

She wrenched open the sliding door...

...and shrieked.

"Malfoy! What are you doing here?" she yelled in surprise.

"I believe it's called taking a shower, Granger," he replied, amused, turning off the shower to look at her.

Hermione glared at him, while he ran his eyes over her appreciatively and then she remembered (belatedly) that she was completely undressed. As was he.

_Floor, now would be a great time to swallow me up_, she thought, mortified. But of course, the floor did no such thing, and Draco continued to stare. Swallowing her embarrassment, she lifted her chin in a defiant manner, daring him to comment.

"That was quick," he commented, his voice thick with desire. "What did Weasel want?"

Ron. Anger flared through her again as she remembered what had just happened. She needed to forget. She stepped into the shower cubicle and closed the door behind her firmly, ignoring the raise of Draco's eyebrows.

She pushed him against the wet tiled wall and wrapped her arms around his neck like before, tip-toeing to bring her lips closer to his own. "Who cares what he wanted?" she mumbled before kissing him thoroughly.

He deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him. One hand reached out and turned the shower back on. Hermione gasped in surprise at feeling of the warm water and instantly felt Draco's tongue slide against her own. Hermione responded in kind, moaning softly as the sensations overpowered her.

She finally broke away, gasping for breath. "Wow," she murmured, looking up at him and smiling impishly. One hand trailed slowly down his front, and he felt her hand slowly curl around his erection, eliciting a hiss from him. "You look happy to see me."

He narrowed his eyes at her as she started pumping her hand along his member, making him go weak at the knees. He slumped back against the wall. "Okay, _who _are you and what have you done to Granger?"

Hermione smiled again. "Don't worry, she'll be back later. For now, why don't you enjoy Hermione?"

Draco wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Hermione awoke on Sunday morning, full of dread and anticipation. A delayed reaction, since it _should_ have manifested itself right after she had had…sex (Hermione's eyes closed again in embarrassment)…with Draco. But, as was usually the case around Draco, her brain hadn't had the decency to produce a single sensible thought and had instead been overloaded with wanton ones. Which had consequently led to her behaviour in the living room...and the shower...and shortly afterwards, his bedroom, where he had proceeded to justify almost every over-exaggerated rumour she had heard about him. Oh Merlin.

Her stomach did flips as her mortification at the previous day's events grew. There was no doubt that she would still have been lying in his bed this morning, instead of her own, had it not been for dinner. Draco had pointed out that it would be suspicious for both Head students to miss two meals in a row –soon, someone was bound to come looking for them. He had been right, of course, and she had watched him leave with pangs of regret. And a lot of annoyance.  
Annoyance because _he _had been clear-headed enough to have thought of this, while she had been in a lustful stupor.

What exactly had _possessed _her to act so -brashly? And more importantly, how was she supposed to act this morning? How would he act around her? These thoughts sent a fresh wave of nausea through her and she groaned softly. This was the last thing she needed. Another complication. Damn her stupid hormones.

Finally, she decided the most suitable course of action was avoidance. And to avoid him successfully, she needed to get out of bed. Now. The weak sunlight filtering in through her window indicated that it was too early for him, as well as the rest of the school, to be up and about on a Sunday. But then again, winter _was _approaching, so her assumption may have been totally wrong. Sighing, she swung her legs out of bed and stood up, only to have her knees buckle under her as she registered soreness in muscles that she didn't know she had. Grimacing, she stumbled to the bathroom, stepping on Crookshanks' tail on the way, which eliciting an angry hiss from the highly affronted cat.

"Sorry, Crooks," she muttered as the cat glared up at her balefully and marched off, tail in the air. The thought crossed her mind that he might have been presenting her with his rear end for a (very) insulting reason, but she chalked it down to drowsiness. Cats just didn't moon people.

She continued to the bathroom, wondering for a moment whether it would make sense to lock Draco's door after all that had happened the previous day and decided that she would. After all, she could hardly avoid him by showering with his connecting door unlocked. It would be interpreted as a blatant invitation.

_And is it? _a sneaky voice asked.

Hermione frowned. Of course not.

There wasn't much conviction in the thought.

She dressed quickly in her usual weekend jeans and a light sweater, carrying along a scarf in case it got any colder and made her way down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast.  
A few early-risers were already seated at the tables, murmuring softly so as to not break the morning silence. There were only five or six Gryffindors at the table and Hermione quickly occupied a seat next to a bleary-eyed Neville.

"Hey, Neville," she greeted, reaching out for the toast.

"Hey, Hermione. You're down early."

She shrugged. "I couldn't sleep any longer. I was feeling...restless."

That part was true, although 'restless' seemed too tame a term to describe her feelings.

Neville nodded in understanding, before changing the topic. "So, what's this about the Winter Ball?"

Hermione lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "You've heard about it already?"

"Oh, yes," Neville replied. "The Prefect's put up the notices yesterday. Dumbledore made an announcement last night at dinner, too. Everyone's pretty excited –_two _socials in a term. Every girl's dream." The last part was added morosely. Neville didn't like dancing.

Hermione patted his hand consolingly. "Not mine, I assure you. I was secretly hoping that the Prefects would reject the idea, but –no such luck." She sighed and turned back to her breakfast. Students were starting to trickle in slowly, looking sleepy and relaxed. "You'd think they'd all be eager to get home early," she muttered.

Neville gave a weak laugh. "I really doubt anyone's leaving tomorrow. Mostly everyone in Gryffindor is staying for the Ball. They've even started looking for their dates. The sooner, the better, I suppose."

Hermione made a noncommittal sound. She didn't even have a choice as to who she wanted to attend the Ball with. But even if she had the choice, would she really have _wanted _to go with anyone else? After the revelation she had had about her feelings toward Draco yesterday, she found that rather unlikely. And there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that if she had seen him there with someone else, it would have instantly ruined her evening. So maybe the arrangement was a beneficial one, after all. For her, anyway.

Was it selfish of her to think that way?

Maybe.

Draco didn't seem to mind the situation, much. He had even gone as far as to openly inform all the Prefects of the fact –something Hermione most probably wouldn't have done. Not to mention, he had defended her rather publicly. It was, in fact, strange that people weren't already whispering and pointing fingers at her.

Not that there were enough people up and about yet, but still.

Hermione broke away from her thoughts just in time to hear the end of Neville's question.

"...come to the Ball with me?"

Hermione blinked, unsure of who Neville had been talking about. "Uh...go to the Ball with you?"

"Yes. I mean, I don't think she's going with anyone yet, I mean, the announcement was just made last night, so maybe she'd like to go with me."

"Erm...sure, Neville, I'm sure she'd love that," Hermione confirmed, still unsure of whom they speaking.

"Excellent! I'll ask Luna as soon as she comes down to breakfast, then," he said enthusiastically.

Ah, yes, Luna. Of course.

"Look, there she is," Neville informed, standing up. "I'll just go and talk to her now." He headed down to the entrance, where Luna had just come in with Ginny. The Gryffindor girl caught Hermione's eye and, after whispering something in Luna's ear, made a beeline straight for her.

"So," she started, occupying the seat Neville had just vacated. "You and Malfoy, huh?"

"Hello, Ginny, good morning to you too," Hermione quipped wryly.

Ginny waved off the greeting impatiently. "That was quite an announcement he made in the meeting yesterday. I thought Ron would collapse, but the Hufflepuff beat him to the punch."

Hermione shrugged, but didn't say a word. She had a feeling that if she opened her mouth now, all of yesterday's events would come pouring out and as tolerant as Ginny was, Hermione knew that everyone had their limits.

"Hermione," Ginny blurted out suddenly, oddly hesitant, "I –I have something to tell you."

Ginny's tone instantly put Hermione on alert.

"What is it?" she asked warily.

"Uh –Harry knows."

For a second, Hermione was sure she had misunderstood Ginny. Surely, she couldn't _possibly _have said that...Harry knew? The look on Ginny's face, however, condemned her. Hermione's pulse sped up in anxiety.

"Oh, Ginny, how _could _you?" Hermione moaned.

"I didn't!" she protested. "Well, not directly, anyway. He sort of guessed it and I –I couldn't _lie _to him!"

Hermione couldn't argue that. She took a calming breath. "How did he take it?"

"He was angry at first –but then we talked it through and he calmed down. We're both willing to give you your space. We won't get involved unless you ask us to."

It was almost too much to hope for. Hermione leaned over and hugged the younger girl. "Thank you so much," she whispered.

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief and hugged her back. "I'm sorry for not having been able to keep my mouth shut, but maybe it turned out better this way."

Hermione nodded and pulled away. It had turned out better than she had expected. Now there was only Ron...

"What about Ron?" she asked.

"Oh, he doesn't know yet. And there is _no _way either Harry or I are going to break the news to him. We like having our hearing ability just fine, thank you. And speaking of Ron, I heard you chewed him out yesterday."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Yes, I did. It seems like your _brother _thinks of me as not much more than a handy homework-helper."

Ginny rolled her eyes and patted Hermione's shoulder consolingly. "He's a git, don't worry about him. He really should learn to do his work on his own, now."

Hermione grumbled under her breath.

"Come on," Ginny said, standing up and pulling Hermione's arm. "Let's ditch those boys today and spend some time doing girly-things with Lavender and Parvati."

At Hermione's look of abject horror, Ginny giggled. "Relax, 'Mione, it won't be _that _bad! Trust me!"

"Said the spider to the fly," Hermione muttered, but allowed Ginny to lead the way.

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Draco Malfoy stepped out of the Head Common Room, feeling disgruntled. She had left already, he could sense that much. But then again, he hadn't expected anything less. He could almost picture her right now, hyperventilating over the thought of yesterday's events -which had undoubtedly been one of the best shags of his life. Or, well, technically, several of the best shags of his life. She had surprised him with her enthusiasm, but he wasn't about to complain for a good thing.

He hadn't really wanted to leave her for dinner, but he knew he had to go. Dumbledore was a mentally imbalanced old coot, but not even Draco could truthfully say that he was stupid. He would eventually put two and two together and end up with fucking forty-four. Draco wasn't sure how he felt about anyone finding out about this..._thing_ he had with Hermione.

A month ago, the mere thought of it would have appalled him.

Now, it didn't. Not really.

That in itself was a cause to frown. What did it _mean? _

Of course, when he had returned to his room, Hermione had left. A quick peek had confirmed that she was fast asleep in her own room. He had, perhaps, watched her sleep for a while longer than was strictly necessary, but she didn't need to find that out. Ever.

"Oi, Malfoy."

An annoying, familiar voice pulled him out of his musings. Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Lost, Weasley, have you, Potter? Well, I'm can't help you with your loneliness, I don't swing that way."

Draco felt minutely better as he watched the other boy's hands clench into fists. It felt good to vent his frustration on somebody else.

"Fuck you, Malfoy. I have to talk to you."

This was something serious, Draco could tell. If it weren't serious, they would already have been in the middle of a full-fledged duel. He quickly scanned the hallway to ensure that it was devoid of students and then casually leant sideways against the cold stone wall.

"What is it, Potter?" he asked with a dramatic sigh, feigning nonchalance, despite the curiosity gnawing at him.

"You and Hermione."

Draco's posture stiffened imperceptibly and his jaw clenched as his face donned a guarded expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about," was the bland reply.

The dark-haired boy shot him a withering glare. "Give it up, Malfoy. I know what's going on, so do you and so does Ginny Hermione told her."

Mixed feelings coursed through Draco at this statement. Anger was primarily one of them, followed by a sense of betrayal, shock and...relief? Weren't they supposed to keep this to themselves? Hadn't that been the unspoken deal? And more importantly, _why _hadn't Hermione told him that Ginny knew?

But then again, Blaise and Pansy knew about it...wasn't it only fair for two other Gryffindors to know?

Unless...

"So why isn't Weasel King here with you, then?"

"He doesn't know."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. This was going to be interesting.

"So, what do you want?"

"You know what I want."

Draco restrained himself from making a crack at Potter's sexuality at those words. Instead, he said, "You want me to leave her alone." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. It didn't take much to figure out how his tiny brain worked. "Well, too bad, I'm not going to."

Draco's hand moved towards his wand, which was concealed in his robes, expecting a barrage of hexes at any instant. They didn't come.

Potter sighed. "I thought you might say that." A shrug, and then –

"Anyway, Hermione would kill me if she found out that I'd tried to interfere in her life." He eyed Draco beadily. "This doesn't mean that I approve of her...with..._you_! But if you hurt her, in _any _way, you're a dead man."

Draco blinked. Did Potter just...give Draco _permission_? The thought was ludicrous. He told the boy as much and received a rude hand gesture.

"Very mature, Potter. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than to talk with you. Like watching my own shadow."

Potter rolled his eyes and turned away. "Whatever. And by the way –this doesn't mean that we're," he paused and grimaced. Draco rapidly prayed that he wasn't about to say what Draco thought he was. His prayers weren't answered. " –friends."

Draco made a gagging gesture, depicting his true feelings. "Potter, I have _no _interest whatsoever in joining your band of Gay Men. So please, spare me."

"Malfoy," Potter bit out in annoyance, "I will _never _know what she sees in you."

He didn't stay long enough to hear Draco's murmured reply. "Neither will I."

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Hermione bit her tongue for the tenth time as Lavender and Parvati came up with yet _another_ hairstyle to try on her hair. They had taken personal offense at her lack of enthusiasm for the upcoming Winter Ball and had made it their own mission to 'beautify' her on the day.

As if _that_ was something to look forward to.

In the past three hours, they had come with all sorts of unimaginable hairstyles and tried them out on Hermione's hair –only to decide that it didn't suit her after all. Ginny watched the two of them as they 'worked their magic', trying very hard to stifle her laughter at Hermione's obvious impatience and adding her own comments from time to time.

The only reason Hermione had kept quiet so far was because she figured that this was probably Ginny's form of revenge on Hermione. And considering Ginny's overall level-headedness about the whole Draco business, Hermione figured that this was a suitable punishment. It could have been worse –she could have been friendless. So she put on a brave face and endured the two hairdressers from hell.

"Okay, Hermione, close your eyes!"

"What? Why?" Hermione grumbled. Her back was to the mirror, she had no idea what they had done to her hair this time.

"Just do it, woman! You'll love this!"

"You've said that nine times before," Hermione muttered petulantly, closing her eyes all the same.

"Yes, but you'll _really _love this!" Lavender gushed, as she slowly turned Hermione around. "We do!"

Hermione sighed but said nothing. They had said that nine times before, too. Right before they decided that something was wrong with the hairstyle.

"Alright, open them."

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, fearing the worst. They hadn't chopped her hair off, so whatever they had done could still be undone. Thank Merlin for that!

But the sight that met her eyes was pleasantly surprising. They had gone from outrageous to classy –a simple chignon was what they had tried out this time. Hermione had no idea how they had managed to put away all that hair without using any hair products, but the outcome was nice. Very nice, in fact. She saw Lavender and Parvati eyeing her speculatively.

"Maybe we should –" Parvati started, but was interrupted by Hermione.

"I like it."

And that was it.

"Okay," Lavender acquiesced. "That's what we'll do on Saturday, then. Do you have a dress yet?"

Hermione was momentarily stunned. She hadn't expected them to give in so quickly. Had they been waiting for her acceptance?

"Erm..no, not yet. I'm going into Hogsmeade on Wednesday to buy a dress."

"Excellent, I'll come with you! I haven't bought a dress yet, either." Ginny grimaced and continued, "And I don't have a date yet, either."

Three pairs of surprised eyes turned on her.

"You have a boyfriend, Ginny, why would you need a date?" Hermione asked surprised.

She shrugged. "Harry hasn't asked me to go with him, yet."

Parvati and Lavender made sympathetic noises. Hermione felt lost. "Does he have to ask?"

"Of course he does!" Parvati exclaimed. "He can't take her for granted."

Hermione nodded. Right.

"Anyway, Hermione, I heard you're going with Malfoy," Lavender interjected, giving the girl a sideways glance.

Hermione flushed and gave a noncommittal shrug. "You and everyone else, I suppose."

"So it's true?" Parvati asked eagerly.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, Dumbledore told us that we were to attend together. Promoting inter-house unity."

"Lucky you," Lavender sighed dreamily.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, while Ginny bit on her lip to stop laughter from escaping.

"Am I missing something here?" Hermione asked nonplussed.

Parvati giggled. "Lavender's had a crush on him ever since he slept with her last year."

Suddenly, Hermione had trouble breathing. Lavender had slept with...Draco?

"You slept with Malfoy?" Hermione voiced her thoughts weakly.

Lavender smiled. "Twice. He is so gorgeous."

"Too bad he's such a git," Ginny murmured.

"Not in bed, he's not," Lavender gushed. Parvati giggled. Hermione wanted to retch.

"I –I'm sure you're right," she agreed faintly. "Could you undo this, please?" she asked, pointing at her hair.

Parvati got to work.

"You really don't know what you're missing, Hermione," Lavender gushed. "Living with him, the things I would love to do to him..."

Hermione tuned her out before she could do something stupid. Like hex Lavender's face off. She could see Ginny frowning in the mirror and appreciated the girl's show of solidarity.  
She wasn't even sure why the thought of Lavender sleeping with him disturbed her –she _knew _that he had slept with a lot of girls. Maybe she had never fitted Gryffindors into the equation.

How ignorant of her.

A girl was, after all, a girl. No matter what House she belonged to.

Hermione fought to keep her face straight while Parvati worked on her hair. Lavender was still talking –about Draco, no doubt –but the only sound that reached Hermione's ears was a low buzzing, rather like the one a _Muffliato _would produce, and it blocked out Lavender's voice.

That made her frown. That buzzing sound wasn't as a result of her pathetic attempts at feigning ignorance. It was real. Panicked, she covertly cast her gaze around the room, until her eyes met Ginny's in the mirror.

_It's okay, _the younger girl mouthed and Hermione relaxed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ginny's wand disappear back into her jeans pocket.

Ginny had cast a whispered _Muffliato _on Hermione to spare her the ordeal of having to listen to Lavender gush over Draco. She knew it was bound to upset Hermione –and if the expression on Hermione's face was anything to go by, she was right.

Finally, Hermione's hair was loose again. She ran a hand through her hair and smiled at Parvati in appreciation. The buzzing sound faded away and, thankfully, Lavender had moved on to another topic. She and Ginny excused themselves hurriedly, using Harry and Ron as an excuse, and quickly made their way out of the girls' dormitory.

Parvati and Lavender watched their retreating backs, keeping bright smiles pasted on their faces until they were out of sight. Parvati sighed and flopped down on her bed, picking up her latest copy of _Witch Weekly_.

"I told you so," came Lavender's smug voice.

"I never argued it," Parvati sighed.

"But you didn't believe me, either. I can't imagine why –I _saw _it in the crystal ball, after all. And the crystal ball is _never_ wrong." Lavender retorted. "The look on her face when I started talking about Malfoy –it was priceless!"

"She did look like she had a bad case of indigestion," Parvati agreed mildly.

"I'm _so_ good," Lavender sighed happily, falling back on her bed. "I just _knew _there was more to them than met the eye. The tension –it positively sizzles between them. Whenever I'm around them, I can _feel _it!"

Parvati turned to look at her dramatic friend. "And pray, do tell, when exactly _are _you around them? I never see you spending any time with them –and I should know, because I'm with you most of the time."

Lavender ignored that, smiling happily to herself. Parvati returned to her periodical. "In any case, maybe you shouldn't have told her that you slept with him –it's probably going to cause a huge row between them."

Lavender shrugged. "They'll get over it –they're in _love_! It's obvious."

"They do make a good couple," Parvati commented. "I think they're well-suited."

Lavender frowned a little. "Hey, don't rub it in!"

"Wha-? Oh, sorry, Lav, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But if you've seen them together in the crystal ball, then you must already know that you don't stand a chance with him anymore."

"True –I wasn't really planning on pursuing him anyway. But he is cute, though." Her sigh this time was wistful.

"That he is."

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Ginny had apologised profusely for suggesting that they spend time with Lavender and Parvati. Hermione didn't see how she could blame herself. She hadn't known that Lavender had slept with Draco. She told Ginny as much, but Ginny had just shrugged and said that it had been a bad idea anyway. Hermione couldn't disagree with that, so she kept quiet.

They walked around the lake, despite the chill, and they talked. Hermione couldn't remember the last time they had really, truly _talked. _It was exhilarating. She didn't have anything to hide from Ginny anymore, and that, she found, was a good thing because Ginny had advice in plentiful where boys were concerned.

The one thing Hermione didn't tell her was about her newly-acquired non-virgin status. It was too –private. The thought made Hermione shiver. She had always been an open book, and yet now, she had all these _private _things in her life –_private _people. Or rather, a _private_ person.

Leave it to Draco Malfoy to complicate her life.

But was she the one who had set the ball rolling, when she had openly admitted that she liked him? Or had it been him, from the very first kiss? The kiss hadn't been a pleasant one, no. It had been a punishing kiss, but it had been a kiss all the same –more passionate and intense than anything she had ever experienced in her life up until then.

The rest of their walk passed in silence, both girls caught up in their own thoughts. They mindlessly headed back to the castle for lunch, where they found a grimly-satisfied Harry and a sheepish Ron.

Hermione started serving herself lunch, when she heard Harry cough. She looked up in time to see him elbow Ron in the ribs quite hard. She rolled her eyes and focused on her lunch. She knew what this exchange meant.

"Er – 'Mione," Ron started tentatively.

Hermione looked up at him.

"I –I'm sorry about, well, about yesterday and the way I've been acting in general. I...I didn't realise that I –that is to say that I..." He broke off helplessly and looked at Harry, who was studiously ignoring him. He frowned. "Some friend you are. Anyway," he turned back to an expectant Hermione and continued, "I just wanted to tell you that our friendship –it's not about the homework. You're my best friend for so many other reasons –and I love spending time with you, but I know you're really busy nowadays so I –"

Hermione held up her hand to stop him. At this rate, she seriously doubted that he would ever finish his apology. "It's okay, Ron. I –I probably shouldn't have snapped at you yesterday, I was just really stressed out."

"So –you're not still angry at me?" he asked, hopefully.

"Nope," was her blithe reply.

"Excellent! Maybe you can help me with that essay, then."

Hermione glared at him, while Harry choked on his food. Ginny thumped his back.

"It was a joke," Ron faltered lamely, eyeing her nervously. "A joke, I swear."

Hermione shook her head and returned to her food.

After lunch, Ginny invited Hermione back to the Gryffindor Common Room with them, but Hermione declined, choosing to go to the library instead. She really needed some time to think.

Draco yawned as he stepped into the Head Common Room. It was rather late. He had been dragged to the Slytherin Common Room after dinner by Theo Nott, who had insisted that Draco join them for a round of drinks. Draco had overlooked the fact that they weren't supposed to have drinks in school in the first place. And he sincerely doubted that Nott had been talking about pumpkin juice.

He had been welcomed enthusiastically by most, save for Pansy and Blaise, and they had left shortly. Which had made the evening even more enjoyable. Three bottles of Firewhisky and a sloppy drunken kiss (administered by Whitney Whitehouse, who seemed harder to fight off than an octopus) later, he headed back his own bedroom. He doubted he'd see Hermione at all today. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing at the moment, because he didn't want her to know that he'd been drinking. Not that he was drunk –no. He could handle his liquor much better than most, but even he couldn't get rid of the smell. And he was positive that his clothes reeked of alcohol. The others' robes had, anyway.

The fire in the Common Room was still burning, but the room was empty. He made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom, ready to collapse onto his bed. He wasn't drunk, but he was as tired as hell.  
Instead of doing just that, an idea sprang up and he walked into the bathroom, and into Hermione's bedroom.

_I must be mad, _he thought to himself, as he shed his robes and unlaced his shoes. _Fucking crazy._

Because she would kill him the next morning, no doubt.

But he didn't really seem to care at the moment.

He probably was drunk.

He stripped down to his boxers, all the while thanking Merlin that she had cast warming spells all around the room, and made his way to her bed, where she lay on her side, huddled up under covers, her back facing towards him.

"Granger," he whispered. "Move over."

She gave a sleepy murmur but made no move to give him any room on the bed.

"Granger," he hissed a little louder, "shove over, already."

She grumbled, but she shifted to the right, away from him. He slid into the space she had created and slipped under the blanket, draping an arm across her waist and pulling her to him.

"Night, Granger."

She gave a small huff of annoyance and muttered "Stupid Draco."

Draco rolled his eyes. Leave it to her to complain, even in her sleep. That was his last conscious thought, before he succumbed to sleep.

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**A/N: Woo! My November update! But...fear not (those who are still reading this)...3 more weeks and I'll be done :) I *hope* you guys liked it...and pleeeaaase leave a review!! I've heard they're therapeutic for post-exam stress :)**

**Cheers,**

**Rae**

**P.S. -I have a banner for this story!!! It was made by Piper_Weasley_24 and I think it rocks! Here's the link "http : // i97. photobucket. com / albums / l204 /aartnmc / thefineline . jpg" Don't forget to remove the spaces! Tell me what you think!  
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	29. Chapter 28

**A/N: Yay, I'm back!! Wait...am I the only one cheering? Well, if I am, I don't blame you...this chapter is abominably late...and on top of that...it's short! Don't you just hate me? But...I finished my exams, and I got a job. It's a temporary thing, but it's full-time, i.e. 8 to 4. So, needless to say, I'm as tired as hell. This chapter is my way of saying 'MERRY CHRISTMAS' to all my readers, if there are any left. I hope there are...**

**Anyway, hope you have a [fairly] enjoyable read...and don't forget the feedback...as usual, I love it. On that note, a huge hug to all the reviewers for the previous chapter...your reviews meant tons :D**

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**Chapter 28:**

"OW!"

Draco awoke with a start, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. Clearly, he was not in his room. The red and gold hanging screamed as much. As did the owner of the room.

"Malfoy, you IMBECILE!"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, praying for mercy, before he fixed his gaze on the angry brunette who had picked herself off the floor and was currently rubbing the back of her neck.

"Granger. Pleasant morning, isn't it?" he asked blithely, as though he hadn't woken up in her room, on her bed and found her on the floor.

Her half-crazed look had him backing away from her slightly. Surprisingly, when she spoke next, it was with a moderately calm voice.

"_Pleasant?_" she queried, staring at him as though he had grown another head or two. "You…you _pushed me off my bed! _So, no! It's not pleasant!"

He rubbed his face wearily before responding. "You fell off your bed. I didn't push you off."

"I fell off because you were on it, taking up all _my_ space!"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's hardly my fault that your bed's tiny."

"My bed is not tiny! It's a single bed…it's meant for _one _person only!"

" You should have used an Expanding Charm on it, then."

"Why should I have? It's not like I was expecting anyoneelse –"

"Granger," he interrupted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "You're so boring."

Hermione blinked once, twice. She could do little more than stare at him as he fished around for his clothes, indignation robbing her of the right words. He had located his pants and was in the process of pulling them on when he felt something whack him on the back of his head.

"_Fuck, _Granger, what's with you?" he growled angrily, rubbing his head and turning around to face her. A roll of parchment was clenched in her hand, crumpled at the side where it had made contact with his person. A small scuffle ensued as he made to grab it away from her and throw it to the other side of the room.

"What's with _me?_" she snarled, pushing him away. "What's wrong with _you?_"

Draco could feel a headache coming on and it had nothing to do with his alcohol consumption from the night prior. He pinched the bridge of his nose and backed away from her, throwing on his robe. He wasn't in the mood to argue with her.

_But you knew this would happen, didn't you? _

He had known. And yet, he had still crawled into her bed. But for some reason, he didn't regret the decision. If he could have gone back to that moment in time, he would have done the same thing all over again. So, he exhaled heavily and sat back down on her bed, looking up at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't say anything, he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"What's wrong with me, Granger?"

"Everything, obviously!" she snapped, running a hand through her hair. "Just because I haven't slept with every boy in school doesn't make me _boring._"

He furrowed his brow. "I never said it made you boring, Granger. In fact it's a good thing you didn't sleep with _every_ boy in school…sleeping with minors is illegal, not to mention, disgusting."

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed, frustrated. "Can you please be serious?"

Oh. It was one of _those _discussions.

"Alright, Granger, what do you want me to say?"

"That you're sorry, maybe?"

"For what?"

"For calling me boring just because I haven't _expanded _my bed to accommodate more than one person. Unlike _you, _I'm not in the habit of sleeping around!"

"Merlin, Granger, it was a _joke!_"

"Then you have a shit sense of humour!"

"And you have _no _sense of humour!"

"Yeah, I'm sure according to you a good sense of humour goes hand in hand with being a complete slu-"

"Granger, what the _fuck _–"

" –should start inviting guys to my bed, maybe _that _will develop my sense of –"

"No! No, it bloody well will not! Why are you blowing this so out of pro-"

" –go around sleeping with half the bloody _school_ and every fucking day I'll hear about someone new –"

"What?!"

" –like Lavender Brown, of all people, you had to sleep with _her?_"

They stopped speaking, each eyeing the other warily. A sense of melancholy crept through Draco as it dawned upon him what was _really _bothering her. It wasn't the fact that he'd shared her bed, or that he'd accidentally pushed her off, or even his sense of humour.

"Lavender Brown, huh?" he asked quietly, leaning forward, his arms resting on his thighs, head down, eyes closed. He didn't look up at her to gauge her reaction. He didn't need to. The shift in the air was enough to let him know that he was right.

Lavender Brown...that had been so long ago, he had almost forgotten. He absently wondered who had told her about it. And more importantly –_why? _

"Granger," he began, and then paused, not sure as to what he wanted to say. He wasn't even sure that he _wanted _to say anything, but he was tired of fighting her. Exhausted. Wasn't that why he had slept with her –to divest himself of some of that exhaustion? And it had worked. So, he owed her an answer. "You know there've been other girls –quite a lot, in fact. You _know _that."

He felt, rather than saw, her sit down next to him. "I know," she conceded quietly.

"Does it bother you that much?"

Silence. And then –

"No, it doesn't. I just –I just want to know how many Gryffindors."

"Three. Yourself included."

"And –did it mean anything?"

Draco frowned as he heard her voice crack a little at the end. She _still _didn't understand. And he wasn't sure whether he had the right words to explain the way he felt. He wasn't even sure if the right words existed. Telling her he didn't care for her at all would be an outright lie –and it wasn't an option he was considering, anyway. He did care for her –strongly. And he knew it had very little to do about the way she looked, or anything else physical.

Was this the fabled 'love' everyone kept talking about? This almost physically painful sensation –was _this_ what made scores of people _happy_? Draco wouldn't know –he had never experienced it before.

_Do I want to? _

Suddenly, his clothes felt too tight on him, stifling him, constricting him. His breaths were shallow and he couldn't get enough oxygen to his brain. He couldn't think straight. Love. The whole word felt so...constraining. So final.  
Vaguely, he remembered that Hermione was waiting for an answer. He got to his feet quickly, wanting to get out of the room as fast as possible. Wanting to get away from her and _that feeling _as fast as possible, before it suffocated him completely.

"No," he murmured vaguely, stumbling towards the door. "Just with you."

He was out of the room before she could react.

* * *

"Hey, 'Mione, you alright?"

Hermione looked up and flashed Ron a quick smile. "I'm fine."

"You're pretty quiet today," he added, eyeing her dubiously.

"I –I'm just thinking." She sighed.

"You always are. Tell me," he turned to her, a serious expression on his face. "what do you think about so much?"

She gave a sardonic smile and averted her gaze towards the wide expanse of the lake. "You really don't want to know."

"I really do, actually."

The gravity in his voice set her on alert. "Why?" she asked warily.

"I can tell that something's bothering you. And I want to help you."

Hermione didn't respond, but her stomach knotted up at his words. She was lying to him. Merlin, she was _lying _to him! And yet, there he was, solid and dependable as ever...acting the way that reminded her why he was her best friend in the first place. Why she loved him so much. Why she didn't want to lose him as a friend.

The irony of the situation hit her then. She was lying to a friend she shouldn't have been lying to about something which would inevitably drive him away, because she didn't want to lose him. Was that even right?

And –he wanted to _help _her?

_Unlikely, _she thought, with a mental snort. Not unless he could take a peek into Draco's head and find out what it was that had bothered him so much earlier that morning that it had caused him to literally _stumble _from her room. He had looked like a caged wild animal then. Trapped.  
Hermione gave a quick shake of her head to drive away her thoughts. It had probably been nothing –her overwrought mind was making things up.

But she still couldn't forget about it.

And she probably wouldn't forget about it until she had cleared it out with him. She resolved to talk to him later that night.

"Hermione."

Ron's voice broke through her musings.

"Yes, Ron?"

"Let me help you."

Oh. Merlin. She felt a familiar stinging in her nose and a lump form in her throat. This would _not _do! She blinked rapidly in an effort to ward off the hot tears. "Ron –it's...fine. There's nothing you need to help me with."

He looked at her then, in a way that made her believe that he saw right through all her lies. She wondered where a distraction was when she needed it. Harry and Ginny had gone off to spend some 'alone-time' together and they wouldn't resurface for a while...and no one in the vicinity was likely to interrupt their conversation.

"Hermione...please."

She sighed and weariness settled in her bones. She was so _tired._ Of lying. Of pretending. Of walking away. Of being walked away from.  
There was no helping it. Ginny knew. Harry knew. Parkinson and Blaise knew. Ron had to find out.

"Ron..." she swallowed painfully. "I –it's about what Blaise said."

Ron frowned in thought. "About Malfoy...and you?"

Hermione nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words ensued. The crease between his forehead deepened momentarily, before disappearing completely as his eyes widened dramatically in horror.

And pain. And anger. And disgust.

The silence between the stretched on and on, until Hermione thought that maybe she had lost her hearing ability the same way she had lost her mind. Because, obviously, she had to be crazy to have told Ron the truth. But she couldn't help it –the weariness refused to let her take any other route out.

"No," he finally whispered.

She looked away.

He left.


End file.
